


We, Who Are Falling

by hwe (plumroot)



Series: Youth, Us [1]
Category: iKON (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, M/M, Playwright!Junhwe, Singer!Donghyuk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-07-27 04:50:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 26,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20040202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plumroot/pseuds/hwe
Summary: During the Japanese colonial period, playwright Goo Junhwe falls in love with Korea's first sopranist Kim Donghyuk.





	1. THIS ROAD OF AGONY - BEGINNING

**Author's Note:**

> This story is pretty faithful to (read: taken from) the short drama [Hymn of Death](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Hymn_of_Death), which is a fictionalisation of the true romance between playwright Kim Woojin and Korea's first soprano Yun Simdeok. Wherein the drama there is Kim Woojin's work, in this story I have used (potentially slightly edited versions of) Junhwe's poems. 
> 
> I really thought rich bitch! Junhwe was my ultimate aesthetic but now I'm qualifying it by saying it's actually rich bitch playwright! Junhwe who wears waistcoats and carries so much melancholy. It turns out such an AU is the pinnacle of my ideals for a romantic tragedy. 
> 
> So, please enjoy.

IF CRUEL FATE WHILE THIS WORLD SHALL LAST

CONTRIVES OUR TWO LIVING HEARTS TO SEVER,

ONE GRAVE SHALL US HIDE WHEN LIFE HAS PAST

AND NOTHING SHALL PART US THEN FOR EVER.

"True Lovers Parted" (poem from _Book of Odes)_

**1 9 2 6**

**SOMEWHERE IN THE KOREA STRAIT, ABOARD THE DEOKSEOHWAN FERRY**

The cabin steward shone his light down the hallway, his paced footsteps on the floorboards somewhat matching the slow lurch of the ship against the restless wind and waves. Had he not offered to cover his friend's night shift he could have been in the bed like everyone else in the early hours of the morning, waking up to the hot sun through his cabin window when they landed at the port of Busan.

He turned the corner. It amused him that on the upper floors, where the wealthier passengers stayed, more effort was expended on the hallway décor. Small gold framed oil paintings against cream coloured walls. It even felt like the hallway was a bit wider. Maybe he was dreaming. When he closed his eyes, all he could taste was the lure of sleep. And how alluring it was. Dangerous. His friend owed him a decent favour after this. He shook his head, continuing down the hallway.

But then, again, he wondered if his head was playing tricks on him. He could hear piano music; loud, clear, and plenty sorrowful. Like an invisible string drawing him towards the sound in small puppet-like staggers, he ended up at the door of cabin number seven. The steward knocked. When the music only continued playing, he carefully opened the door, surprised to find that it was not locked.

Into the empty room he stepped, a record player sitting by the open window, thrumming. Lilies in a glass vase on the bedside table; the bed was made. His flashlight polished over the mahogany desk, whereupon sat a photograph of a group of people, sitting on chairs and smiling brightly, as if for a class photo. Another photograph inside a silver frame with ornate floral patterns, was of a man, turned to only reveal the side of his face. The photo was in black and white, but somehow his shy smile animated the entire picture with warm colour.

The steward's eyes fell to the pen, stack of a few money bills, and the gold watch sitting in the middle of the desk. Curious, he looked around him. The yellow beam from his flashlight clashed harshly with the white glow of the weak wall lamps. By the wall, was a suitcase. Placed above the suitcase was a small piece of paper, perhaps not bigger than the size of a hand, two sentences written in a neat hand.

_ I am terribly sorry. Please send my luggage back home._

And this was all it took to wake the drowsy steward up. Something was wrong; something was definitely wrong. He sprinted out of the room and onto the ship deck. It was only a few seconds before he felt his heart drop to the bottom of his stomach.

At the edge of the empty deck, by the railing, were two pairs of shoes facing the water. They were both mens shoes, placed together neatly, only a step apart.

The steward leaned over the railing, swinging his flashlight in panic over the sea below. Nothing. Nothing but blackness. With a trembling hand, he reached for his whistle and blew.

However beat by the strong current of waves, the boat continued to lumber forward, slowly into the break of a new morning.

**1 9 2 1**

**TOKYO**

_"We were in love. We met and became a memory that cannot be erased. It was a commendable melodrama. It was a pretty good ending. That is all I need."_

No one dared to move, captivated by the way the stage director brought to life the words in the script book he held in his hand. With his back turned to them, facing the window where bright sunlight outlined his body with shimmering gold, the students waited with a singular bated breath for Junhwe to deliver the final line.

_ "I loved you."_

The play ended. At this point the protagonist Minwoo, all alone at his table with a bottle of whiskey, would turn the lamp light off. The audience would clap as the curtains fall.

Hanbin was the first to speak. After all, he was the most nervous. "What do you think, Junhwe? Do you think we can use it during the tour in Joseon?"

Junhwe turned around, a hand comfortably inside his trouser pocket and the other lowering the script from his face. His expression was not discernible. "_A Scenario of Love_. I plan to use this for our first performance."

The overwhelming smell of wooden varnish and dust in the small studio returned to the air, the birds outside continued chirping, and the men exhaled in relief as big smiles grew on their faces.

Yunhyeong cheered, both arms open and ready for Hanbin. "We did it!"

"Yes!" Hanbin had never looked happier in his life as he embraced the actor. "We made it!"

Junhwe smiled proudly at his friends. He knew Hanbin had worked day and night on this script and his hard efforts had paid off. Chanwoo, leaning against the table, shook his head amusedly at Yunhyeong and Hanbin, who clung onto each other in a tight embrace. The two were the oldest students of the troupe but did not always act like it. "If other people hear you, they might really think that our country has been liberated. Are you _that_ exhilarated that your piece is being used?"

Hanbin sighed, with a smile on his lips that must have tasted like ripened plums and warm honey. "It is more meaningful to me because Junhwe acknowledged the piece."

"With this," Junhwe held up the script of_ A Scenario of Love_,_ "_the two new pieces that we will use for the tour in Joseon have been finalised. I believe that these shows will not only help raise funds for our association, but will also be of tremendous help in the development of Joseon's art."

The students around the table nodded in agreement, their hearts filling with purpose and hope as Junhwe spoke. "Furthermore, the performance of new plays and music with help motivate the people of Joseon to feel a sense of pride in the art of their country." It was this type of determination and optimism Junhwe carried that attracted the other students into joining the troupe. Some were Literature students, some acted, and some played instruments. But all of them shared the desire to do _something_ for their country, so they were here.

Out of nowhere, in a wonderful way to ruin the moment, the sound of clumsy heels on wooden floorboards brought everyone's attention to Yunhyeong, tottering into view from behind the stage. He wore a pink dress that was much too small for his upper body and had a wig of long brown hair badly affixed to his head. "Art is great and all. So is our sense of pride. Really. But why does it have to be _me_?"

Everyone laughed. Hanbin held his stomach in pain. Of all the ways this had turned out, Yunhyeong was cast as the female lead of _A Scenario of Love_. "But what can we do, _Yunhee_?" And at this, Yunhyeong threw his floral handkerchief in the playwright's direction. "You are the best at imitating a woman."

"_Me_?" Yunhyeong cried. He pointed at Jisoo, who hid her face behind giggles at the ridiculousness of Yunhyeong in the costume. "There is an actual woman sitting right there, so why _me_?"

"Didn't you see Jisoo's acting earlier?" Hanbin retorted, and Junhwe could only offer Yunhyeong a pitiful look in return when he looked to the director for support. _Help me_, Yunhyeong mouthed desperately. Junhwe cheekily held the script to the side of his face so as to avoid Yunhyeong's stare.

Jisoo blushed. "I told you… I am only in charge of playing the piano."

Disgruntled, Yunhyeong pouted. "Ought I to have known this to be the outcome I would not have helped you with the script, Hanbin-ah."

"There is no one else other than you who can play her!"

"Well." Chanwoo sighed. "If you are really that unhappy, I know someone else who can do it."

"Who? Who is it? Tell me!"

"Well… that…"

Yunhyeong grabbed Chanwoo by the shoulders, shaking him crazily. Once again, everyone else around the table could only laugh. "Who is it?!"

Beautiful soprano vocals filled the hallway, so elegant and stirring that passers-by would often pause to listen, mesmerised by the passion and sorrow in the voice. Inside the small music studio where all the magic happened, the singer, with his hands clasped gently over his stomach, sang to the lifts and falls of the piano accompaniment, his deep concentration visible on his effeminate features.

"Hold on," Mrs Nishimoto interrupted. The piano came to a halt and Donghyuk perked. "Look at the score and interpret the last measure's lyrics."

Donghyuk read from the bottom of the sheet. _"I am going to wait for him with my unwavering trust."_

"Exactly. This piece is about a person who is yearning and waiting for their lover. They do not even know when their lover will come back to them. So you should not sing so cheerfully."

"Okay." Donghyuk nodded. There was a point. "I understand."

But just as the student was about to continue singing, another thought came to the teacher's mind. "Donghyuk. Have you ever yearned for someone you loved?"

Donghyuk blushed at such an upfront question. How would he have! He was just a college student. He had no doubts that of the three people in the music studio, him, a shy girl called Sakura who played the piano accompaniments, and Mrs Nishimoto, the teacher herself was the only person old enough to know what she talked about. "Not yet, madam."

Despite remaining serious, the teacher's emotion was one of fondness as she watched a giggle erupt accidentally from Donghyuk's lips. How young and naïve, and how unexpectedly endearing that was. "A song that does not carry the singer's sincerity is fake. One day, I hope you will be able to really understand the meaning of the lyrics." She sighed. "All right. Since you do not know how it feels, just try imagining the singer's feelings. Let us try again."

"Yes, madam."

The rest of the lesson went by quickly and smoothly, Donghyuk receiving the end verdict from his teacher that he was making improvements in trying to express the emotion of the lyrics. The singer stepped out of class, pleased, only to find a familiar face waiting for him outside the music studio.

Chanwoo smiled brightly, waving from the end of the hall. "Donghyuk!"

"An association?"

Donghyuk's voice was drowned in the happy screams of a group of friends playing around. Many students liked to spend their afternoons after class enjoying an hour of sunlight in the park.

Chanwoo nodded. "It is an association created by students from Joseon. They have asked us to perform in Joseon during this upcoming summer break."

In fact, Donghyuk had many fun plans for summer break. He wanted to go to the beach and swim in the warm sea. He wanted to go to Hokkaido and admire the lavender fields. He heard that it was a splendid sight. His roommate had even invited him to stay over at their family home in the beautiful countryside. Also, like the faithful student he was, he would practice singing.

But he was curious about Chanwoo's invitation. Donghyuk met the violinist last year at the joint stage play by the both of their universities. He didn't know Chanwoo too well, aside from hanging out with him a few times with other friends, but it thrilled him that Chanwoo came to him when looking for a performer, nonetheless. "What is the purpose of the shows?"

"The association's purpose is to gather enough money to build a hall to perform in. Our purpose is to promote these new plays and Western music and enlighten the people of Joseon."

"Is that not a bit dangerous?" Donghyuk asked quietly. He knew how things worked around here, and just hearing about the sheer boldness of the association made him nervous. "I am not sure if I want to do that." The singer sounded a little crestfallen that his summer break plans would remain uninterrupted.

Chanwoo pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket. "For now, just come by," he said, with an easy smile. "You can decide after watching."

Donghyuk accepted the note, staring at the address neatly written in black ink. He already knew the answer in his head, a firm _no_, but something in his heart still could not let go of the curiosity. "I will just stop by, then."

"Yes, please do."

So, the hall was on his way home (if he took a pretty detour) and even if he had no intentions to join the troupe, he had still promised Chanwoo that he would come by to watch. A promise was a promise, right? Donghyuk had to be a man of his promises.

The singer sighed, standing at the bottom of the wet stone path leading up to the small building, surrounded by tall trees and purple hydrangea bushes. Before he could turn around and simply head home, he found himself in front of the building. He carefully walked down the corridor, wondering if he had come too early for there was nothing but silence, until he heard a voice from the end.

_ "Watch. Watch how love takes from you." _The voice was deep and calm.

Donghyuk opened the door slowly, leaving a gap small enough that he could look through into the room. A tall, dark-haired man in a grey waistcoat stood by the window, one side of his face illuminated by the loving beam of after-rain sunshine. He held a thin book to his face, his eyes focused on the words through the thin wire glasses balanced delicately on the bridge of his nose.

"_The moment you underestimate love as nothing but a gentle strength, you have made a grave mistake. Love is something you can use to your advantage. To love is to take unsparingly."_

"Arishima Takeo," Donghyuk responded, stepping into the room. "To be honest I do not particularly agree with him."

The man turned around in surprise, watching in silence as Donghyuk approached.

"How could taking unsparingly be understood as love? Something like that cannot be helped when you are in love. True love means to _give_ unsparingly no matter what." Donghyuk took the man's unresponsiveness as profound admiration of the opinion he expressed. He felt somewhat pleased. "Also, why are you reading a Japanese book in Korean?"

"I will answer you once you explain why you barged in here unannounced."

Finally, this alarmed Donghyuk. What was he even doing here? Why did he just walk in like that? Donghyuk blinked, suddenly finding his shoes a lot more interesting to stare at. "Ah, well. That." His face started to flush. "You see, the door was left ajar."

The man's face was still deadpan. "I never left it open. Moreover, I never gave you permission to enter."

How could someone so handsome be so unpleasant and rude! Donghyuk's eyes widened, the futility of this entire situation becoming clearer by the second. _A firm no. Sorry Chanwoo._ "I am terribly sorry to have interrupted your precious reading time. I will see myself out."

Donghyuk turned around.

Just then, the sound of Chanwoo closing the door made Donghyuk's stomach drop. When did he get here? "Oh, Donghyuk! You are here early. Did you already introduce yourselves?" After a pained silence, Chanwoo continued, "I guess not."

"This is Kim Donghyuk. He is twenty-two years old. He is majoring in Vocal Music at Ueno College of Music." Donghyuk held his chin high, refusing to look at the other male. Eventually, he spared a glance. "And he over there is Goo Junhwe. He is majoring in English Literature at Waseda University. He is the director of our shows. Come to think of it, you are both the same age. Isn't that perfect."

Junhwe extended his hand, which had previously been tucked comfortably inside his pocket. "It is nice to meet you."

Donghyuk looked at Junhwe's hand with a passing look of contemplation, before returning a fake smile. "I beg to differ."

What irked Donghyuk more was that Junhwe's expression always remained unruffled. Junhwe lowered his hand to his side. "I was told that you are talented in acting. I also heard that you have acted in a play. That is why I would like you to perform with us."

"No thank you. I do not have the time for something like that." Donghyuk turned around again, making for the door. This was entertaining while it lasted. "Bye."

"If you call yourself a Korean, should you not do anything and everything you can for your country?"

What was it about Junhwe that made Donghyuk feel so restless? Like he had to prove that he was worthy of even being in Junhwe's presence? Donghyuk stopped and turned to walk back to the middle of the room, anger felt through his steps. "That is _exactly_ why I do not do it."

"What do you mean?"

"I barely managed to come here and study with the government's money. What if I fail to become a sopranist because of your show? Will you take responsibility?"

"So you're saying you are just going to ignore your country so you can live a good life?"

Donghyuk closed his eyes, exhaling patiently. "Our country is a mess right now so I, at least, should live a good life. Right?"

Junhwe looked at him, and Donghyuk did not need for the disappointment to actually cross those prominent features to tell that it was how his words made the playwright feel. But Donghyuk did not regret saying it. 

"Do as you please," Junhwe spoke after a moment. "After hearing about your major, I did not expect you to be good at acting anyway. Anyway, have a great life."

And this was where Donghyuk's heart took over his head, again. "I'll do it! However, I have two conditions."

"He will perform with us," Hanbin repeated incredulously, "but he will only sing? And if he gets in danger at any time, he will quit immediately? Those are his conditions?"

Jisoo frowned, her expression representing the opinions of a majority of the room. It just seemed strange for Junhwe, who was quite stubborn himself, to give in like this. "Do we really need to work with him if it means we have to accept such conditions?"

"I think that if we can add some singing to the show, it will enrich it." No one seemed too convinced by Junhwe's answer, but no one really knew how to respond, either. Junhwe shuffled his script in his hands, without betraying any signs of this being a joke. "Mr Kim Donghyuk will be joining us starting from the next rehearsal."

"We don't really know him," Seungyoon pointed out. "What kind of person do you think he is?"

"He is a good person," Chanwoo replied quickly, nodding with reassurance. "He is quite outspoken as well."

"Come on," Junhwe clapped, before elbowing Yunhyeong softly, who only pretended to twirl his wig shyly. "Let's continue from where we left off last time."

The troupe slowly stirred from their seats, getting into position for the scene rehearsal. As Junhwe's eyes swept over the table he noticed the blue book, peeking out from underneath the stack of papers. Maybe he was a little enthralled that the singer had also read his favourite writer.

_ What kind of person do I think he is?_

Donghyuk turned over at the sound of his roommate entering the room. Yuto flopped onto his bed, too busy drying his hair to notice that Donghyuk had not stopped sulking from earlier. He had been moody non-stop, ever since he got home. He waited for attention, and then sighed dramatically. "He is just so _unreasonable_."

"Then why did you agree to perform with a guy like him?" Yuto asked, draping his damp towel over his desk chair. On a normal day Donghyuk would have had something to say about that, but today his emotions were too caught up on another matter. "Did you not say it could be dangerous?"

"I just want to see how good it is."

"See how good _what_ is?"

Does Yuto listen to anything he says? Donghyuk grumbled, tightening the blanket around his face as his roommate climbed into bed, turning off the lamp between them. "The new play he is preparing. I want to see how good it is for him to look down on me like that. Maybe he was just acting all high and mighty." Donghyuk watched as the orange colour of the lightbulb slowly faded, leaving them in darkness. "And I am going to show him how good I am at singing."

Yuto gasped, not entirely seriously. He just wanted to get some sleep. In his opinion, Donghyuk seemed a little too obsessed with this playwright guy for his feelings to be purely in disdain as he claimed. "Is that so?"

"Excuse me, Mr Goo."

Junhwe turned around just before entering his room. The hostel owner was an old Japanese woman who always wore pale-coloured kimonos. Today it was lilac, with a yellow brocaded obi. With a warm smile, she presented Junhwe his mail.

"Thank you."

"Your father sends letters to you every day. How sweet of him."

They exchanged bows before Junhwe entered his room, dropping his briefcase gently on the tatami before sitting down and blankly staring at the letter.

Finally, he peeled back the envelope, pulling out a stack of yen bills. As he unfolded the thin paper, he filled with dread. His father's scolding tone could be heard all the way from Mokpo there in Junhwe's room in Tokyo, despite the words only being expressed in writing.

_ Do not splurge and use this money I am giving you wisely. Do not read those useless books, and do not even put them on your desk. _

_ I allowed you to study English Literature as you wished, so once you finish your studies and return to Joseon, live the life I want you to live. I will be in touch soon._

Junhwe sighed. It was not his first time reading those words, and certainly not his last. He folded the letter and slid it back into its envelope, eyes falling reluctantly on the stack of books on his desk.

The melody showcased Donghyuk's mellow yet powerful voice wonderfully, and along with Jisoo's delicate piano accompaniment the song perfectly brought out the sentiments of the play's tragic ending. Everyone watched Donghyuk in amazement, eyes not blinking even once, as he sang for them.

And, of course, he felt pleased that people were showing admiration of his talents. But was the world so adamant on not giving him what he wanted? Goo Junhwe leaned casually on the table with his back facing the singer and pianist during the entire performance. As he read from the script - the nerve of him! - all Donghyuk could see was his broad shoulders jutting out of his waistcoat, unmoving. Not that Donghyuk _worried _about Junhwe's opinion. He probably didn't know the first _thing_ about good music. Though, as Donghyuk sang and acknowledged the awed expressions of his troupe members, his eyes kept darting back to the direction of the tall male in expectation.

The song finished and everyone clapped. Yunhyeong was the most enthusiastic, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye.

Eventually, Junhwe turned around. "The song collaboration with Jisoo was quite sad. I would rather it be more cheerful and upbeat since reality is already quite depressing. Jisoo, I am sorry for the inconvenience. You sounded amazing, though."

"It is alright," Jisoo brushed off the compliment shyly.

"And as for…" Junhwe looked at Donghyuk, and it seemed like there were some words on the tip of his tongue. Junhwe's mouth hung slightly open. Donghyuk straightened instinctively, anticipating the oncoming praise. He needed to hear Junhwe admit that he was a good singer. 

But much to his disappointment, nothing followed Junhwe's pause. The writer turned back to the troupe. "The musical session is now over. Let us move on to the play. Kenta will help us with the direction."

The Japanese student bowed, beaming at everyone with a friendly smile. "My name is Takada Kenta. I hope we get along well."

"_Minwoo-ssi!_" Yunhyeong cried, falling into the chest of his character's lover. "_My fate lies in your hands!_"

Seungyoon wrapped his arms around Yunhyeong, gazing down with a forlorn expression. "_Yunhee-ssi!_"

"Hold on." Junhwe frowned. It was sometimes difficult to tell what Junhwe was thinking, with his face that did not change much apart from the occasional quirk of the lip at Yunhyeong's shenanigans or, in this case, when something was noticeably extravagant. Donghyuk, still aggrieved by how the director ignored his singing, found himself chasing Junhwe's reactions moreover than focusing on the play. "Is that the face of someone who is embracing her lover?"

"Stop." Yunhyeong shook himself off Seungyoon, throwing his arms, compressed inside frilled sleeves, in the air. "Stop. I cannot do this anymore."

Junhwe sighed. "Stop whining or I will make you do worse things."

Yunhyeong perked, changing back to his high-pitched voice. "_Goodness me. Junhwe, I will do better!_" Yunhyeong turned to Seungyoon. "_Minwoo-ssi, I promise I will do better. I love you, Minwoo-ssi._"

Everyone laughed, and Donghyuk noticed that Hanbin seemed the most entertained by Yunhyeong's acting. But moreover, he noticed that Junhwe seemed to do everything other than meet his gaze. Donghyuk didn't know he could feel so much dislike for someone.

"All right then. We will wrap up today's practice." Junhwe packed his briefcase and headed quickly for the door.

_ Where is he going!_ Donghyuk quickly shoved his music scores into his bag, hurrying after the director.

Suddenly, Chanwoo stepped in front of his path. "Donghyuk, would you like to grab dinner with me?"

"I am sorry," Donghyuk answered with little hesitation, catching the sight of Junhwe's back as he turned from the door. "I have a bone to pick with someone."

"What did you say?" Chanwoo called after Donghyuk, who had already power-walked out of the studio.

Outside, Donghyuk was greeted by the sound of birds and the rustle of breeze coming through the trees. Junhwe was nowhere in sight. "I see he has already left." In response to the timely grumbling of his stomach, Donghyuk's shoulders sank in exasperation.

The aromatic scent of pork bone broth and sesame oil welcomed Donghyuk like a warm hug as he stepped into the small restaurant. The clinking of steel dinnerware, whistling of steam, and people deliciously enjoying their noodles only reminded him of how hungry he was. Looking around, the apparent lack of empty tables was dangerously close to sending Donghyuk into an even gloomier mood than he was already in. That was until he spotted a space at the bar table facing the open kitchen, and coincidentally the familiar sight of a grey waistcoat.

_ Fine_.

Donghyuk put his bag down on the floor, coughing quietly as he climbed onto the chair beside Junhwe.

Junhwe did not look up from his food. "A bowl of noodles please."

"I never said I would have that," Donghyuk answered, shuffling into a comfier position.

"It was for me."

Donghyuk frowned. "I will have a bowl of noo-"

"Just kidding - it's for you."

Maybe Donghyuk shot Junhwe the dirtiest glare he could muster. And maybe when Junhwe smirked to his bowl, the upturn of lip and the slight lift of his cheek, Donghyuk only _pretended_ to huff in annoyance. 

The chefs in this restaurant worked with miraculous speed. "Thank you," Donghyuk said politely as the bowl of steaming noodles was placed before him. After sprinkling in a generous amount of sesame, his mouth already watering, he took the first bite only for it to burn him. It ended in Donghyuk spluttering the noodles back into the bowl and sticking out his scalded tongue in pain.

Junhwe pushed a cup of tea his way. Donghyuk accepted it without much hesitation.

"Why… did you leave in such a hurry earlier?" Donghyuk asked quietly, after his mouth was finally soothed and he managed to have his first proper bite of noodles without choking.

"I was hungry."

"How did you know about this place?"

"There is no Korean in Tokyo who does not know about this place."

Donghyuk nodded. "Fair enough."

There were still many questions swimming in Donghyuk's mind, but before he could ask any of them, suddenly Junhwe placed some money on the counter and stood up. "Take your time."

_ No! _

Donghyuk reached for Junhwe's wrist, dragging back the taller male as he tried to walk away. "Wait a second!" the singer exclaimed, with a mouth full of noodles. "I have something to say to you!"

"You will empty this at the rate you are going." Junhwe put his hand over Donghyuk's grasping the wooden handle, gently setting the white glazed satsuma tea pot onto the table. "What is it that you wanted to say to me?"

Donghyuk's face was flushed, a bloom like red cherry blossoms in the middle of spring. Junhwe learned that the singer, despite the constant sharp eyes and high chin, pouted non-stop after letting more than three cups of rice wine past his lips.

"How could you do this to me? From the first day we met, you have been belittling me." Donghyuk frowned, inattentively circling the edge of the empty cup with his finger. In that moment he knew a few things. He knew that he was in a sake bar; he was possibly drunk; and Goo Junhwe, the person who gave his body a restless feeling, was sitting right across him. "You think I am a pathetic boy who does not care about his country."

"That is not true."

"A show in our home country? That is great. But what difference would it make? We have already lost our country, so what good would Western music and plays do? It has no power."

"You are correct, Donghyuk-ssi," Junhwe answered, and this brought the attention of Donghyuk's eyes up to meet his own. "However, I am trying to hold on to my country in my own way. Our country is being trampled on, but I want to show that our spirits are still alive in the form of a play. Is that not also the reason why you sing?"

"If you were not belittling me, then why did you only comment on other people's performances but not on mine?" Donghyuk's gaze faltered again. "It was embarrassing," he added, in a soft and upset voice. It had bothered him for a while now, only that this anger and disdain for Junhwe turned out in actuality to be his own hurt pride.

"I just did not have anything to say."

"What?"

"I did not need to comment on your singing, because it was very beautiful. When we first met, you asked why I was reading a Japanese book in Korean. Well, it is to not forget that I am Korean. Anything else?"

Donghyuk felt equal parts humiliated and impressed. At the same time, he felt a lot better than he did before. "Well. No…"

"We should get going then." Junhwe stood up to pay.

So Donghyuk stared on dazedly, before a smile broke on his lips as his gaze landed on Junhwe's broad back; a sight he would soon grow quite fond of seeing. "Why could you not have said that earlier… Goo Junhwe."

_"Mother! Father!"_

Yunhyeong pretended to weep over a white cloth laden on the stage, the sound of his wailing filling the entire studio. Hanbin and Junhwe watched at the front with their arms crossed, in deep contemplation.

"I would like you to say that line with a bit more despair," Junhwe instructed. "It did not sound sad enough."

"Donghyuk!"

The singer perked, looking down at Jisoo by the piano who was ready with her musical score. "Oh, yes."

"Shall we begin our rehearsal?"

"Sure. Hold on." Donghyuk glanced over at the stage again, where Yunhyeong was reattempting the scene with increased passion. "The rehearsals must cost quite a lot of money. How are you guys covering it?"

"We are all pitching in to some degree, but Junhwe is taking care of most of it with the money he receives for his own expenses. I guess it is true what Hanbin said. He said that Junhwe's passion for literature and plays is boundless."

_A leaf caught up in the strong winds. I gaze at it. It would not be much of a surprise if it broke off at any moment now. That leaf being tossed around so hopelessly is somewhat so loveable. _

Junhwe dipped his pen into the glass pot, with the next line ready to flow from his hand with the same ease as it had formed in his head. But instead, as the hovering pen dripped a spot of dark ink on the paper, his mind only filled with pretty smiles and blushed-red cheeks, a gaze of yearning and forlornness.

_ Like a leaf, I want to be hopelessly caught up in you, who is even more delicate._

And at the same time at the Ueno College dorms, not to completely overlook the otherwise irritating sound of Yuto's snoring, Donghyuk wondered why he was wide awake in the middle of the night. Why whenever he closed his eyes the image of Junhwe that appeared - tall, dashing, and stubbornly focused - gave him a similar feeling to having drank a lot of rice wine; giddy, and flutteringly warm.

_ When it breaks off… Well, that is of no matter. I just want to be caught up, not in the world, but in you_.

It rained like it had not rained for months, years. The sky opened and simply refused to close up. The windows were a gushing waterfall, the view of the outside only a blurry painting of greens and browns. Everyone tried their best to rehearse despite the gloomy mood, and Donghyuk found himself shuffling absently through his musical scores after he and Jisoo had gone over their songs thrice.

Donghyuk perked as the door opened, but it was only Chanwoo arriving late with his violin, busily brushing the rain off his coat, which was a fruitless effort anyhow.

Yunhyeong clapped. "Okay. Since we are all here then let’s get started."

As everyone assembled into position, Donghyuk approached the playwright sitting at the table. "Excuse me Hanbin-ssi… Is there something going on with Junhwe-ssi? It's just that he has not shown up to rehearsal for the past two days. I am worried about the show since our director is not here."

"Ah. There is no need for you to worry." Hanbin smiled. "He will be back in a few days once he shakes it off."

Donghyuk swallowed, worry rising in him. "Is Junhwe-ssi sick or something?"

Against the beiges and browns of the landscape, Donghyuk's bright red umbrella was a flower springing out of the dirt, flashing like a signal as he wandered carefully through the suburb. Living at the college dorms meant he rarely had to chance to explore the city. Also, this was a precinct where generally wealthier people lived.

Donghyuk stopped outside the address Hanbin had given him. He stared at the wooden sign for a while, before sighing as he propped his umbrella along the wall and walked inside.

"This is where Mr Goo stays," the hostel owner said politely, gesturing to the room on their left with a warm smile.

Donghyuk bowed. "Thank you."

He knocked softly on the sliding door, and to only silence as a response knocked again. Finally, completely disregarding how he had met Junhwe in the first place, Donghyuk opened the door.

The room was small, with dark wooden furnishings and not many ornaments. Junhwe lay peacefully asleep on a futon above the tatami. Donghyuk closed the door behind him, treading carefully to Junhwe's low desk. Beside the desk on the floor were several stacks of books. Books of all sizes and colours, new and old, piled together like pieces forming a wall. As expected of a Literature student, Donghyuk thought. On second glance Donghyuk picked them up, brushing the thin layers of dust on the covers, and set them on the edge of the desk. He also started to organise the heap of papers sitting on the middle of table, when something caught his eye.

_ What should I do in front of the thing that I want? Just like how it is standing in front of someone that I want, is it not the same standing in front of the path that I want to walk on? _

_ Who am I, standing at the beginning of this road of agony? Who am I, standing at the end of this road of agony? This place that I am in does not fit me. And while the place I want to be in is nearby, it is difficult to get there. _

_ Breathing is like a book we cannot read twice. Therefore, rather than heading for the place I need to go, I will obsess over the place I want to be in._

"By Youngjun." Donghyuk put down the papers, with much weighing on his mind. The poetry was unexpectedly moving. In a way he didn't quite understand, he felt like the words resonated with him. "Who is Youngjun?" he wondered aloud.

"What are you doing?"

Junhwe's voice suddenly cutting through Donghyuk's thoughts scared the living daylights out of him. In that moment, he miraculously prevented a scream from exiting his mouth. Donghyuk could have also very well cursed out of loud, but there was no need for Junhwe to see him in any way other than being good-mannered and well-composed.

Though, as Junhwe stared at him with an expressionless face, Donghyuk felt his heart thump. The writer sat upright on his futon, the pale fabric of his pyjamas matching the blanket covering his legs. 

"Just so you know: I knocked. I didn't barge in or anything like that. Hanbin-ssi told me that you were sick. There is nothing worse than to fall sick when you are alone and away from home." Promptly remembering why he was here, Donghyuk unknotted his cotton pouch, pulling out a steel container which was surprisingly still warm. "I made some rice porridge for you. Back when I lived in Gyeongseong, I used to make it for my younger siblings. So basically my porridge is to die for…" Junhwe's expression remained unchanged. "I see that you are not a fan of it…" Donghyuk added quietly, before his tone became more cheerful. "Still! You should eat up. We need our director back at the studio."

It seemed like Junhwe did not want to talk that much. Since he was unwell, Donghyuk could pardon that. Donghyuk's eyes followed the writer's gaze to the desk behind him. "A writer should keep his books on his desk. How could they be on the floor…"

"You should leave," was Junhwe's response, not in the tone of a suggestion but more like an instruction. _This isn't your play!_ Donghyuk thought heatedly. _Don't tell me what to do!_

"I will leave when the rain stops." Donghyuk stopped kneeling and planted himself firmly on the floor. "I did not bring an umbrella with me."

"You walked all the way here in the rain, then?"

"Well… you see. It did not rain on my way here."

"I will lend you mine."

"Ah… The truth is I don't like borrowing things from other people that much."

"It has stopped raining."

"Oh." Donghyuk looked out the window, disappointment evident in his voice. A single ray of sunshine struck through a gap in the blanket of grey clouds. "Already?"

Rehearsal finished in the early evening, and by then Donghyuk felt like he could recite the entirety of _A Scenario of Love_ from beginning to end without a single fault. Judging from the state of things, he probably knew Yunhyeong's lines better than Yunhyeong did himself. A talent that went to no use, because Donghyuk was only in charge of singing. Hanbin would have been proud, though.

"Where did you go earlier?" Chanwoo asked curiously as he went about packing his violin.

"I just went out for some fresh air," Donghyuk answered, without saying more.

The door opened, and Donghyuk definitely heard someone gasp.

"Junhwe!"

"You're back!" Seungyoon cheered, patting the writer enthusiastically.

"I thought it would take a few more days." Hanbin sounded truly surprised. "Are you better already?"

"Yes." Junhwe smiled. He wore a white shirt underneath the classic grey waistcoat, hand confidently in his trousers just like when they first met. "All thanks to a special treat from someone."

"Which was what exactly?" Yunhyeong demanded, arms crossed.

And precisely how could he explain this? But when Junhwe's eyes found Donghyuk across the room, communicating a message that didn't need words, that was only for _him_ to hear, Donghyuk felt like something had blossomed inside him. Something eager and pleasant and, quite like a bright wildfire in the heart of summer, inextinguishable.

"I heard from Hanbin-ssi that you fall sick for a few days each year around this time," Donghyuk remarked casually a few moments after they had fallen into silence. Because the singer's dormitory was the farthest away from the rehearsal studio, Junhwe offered to walk Donghyuk home that evening. The path through the forest of lush green trees was lit with tall lampposts.

"It is the anniversary of my mother's death, so I took a few days off for myself. I hate having to explain myself, so I just tell people that I am sick. After my mother died when I was five my father remarried three times. Because I was so young, I barely have any memories of her. But I try to cling on to what I have, which is why I spend a few days just thinking about her." Junhwe paused, and then continued in afterthought. "I am only telling you this because you think I am sick. So don't take it too seriously."

Donghyuk smiled, but he felt sad. "To have someone long and yearn for you is a happy feeling. I am sure your mother will be very happy. Also, that poem that I read… It was incredible! I would actually like to read more of your work one day. Do you write plays yet?"

"No. Not yet."

"Then do try writing one!" Donghyuk suggested immediately. Junhwe's glance to his direction told him he was perhaps a bit too enthusiastic. "I mean, you love plays. Why are you not saying anything? Do you not want to write one?"

Donghyuk continued walking only to realise Junhwe was no longer next to him. He turned around, only to nearly bump into the taller male right behind him.

"I like it," Junhwe said softly, gazing down at Donghyuk.

Amidst the quick pounding of his heart, Donghyuk's mind suddenly went blank. "S-sorry?"

"Plays," the writer clarified. "I mean plays. I like them."

"Ah. Plays." Donghyuk nodded, turning away in hope that the taller male wouldn't see the heat creeping on his cheeks. Also, why was that happening? What _else_ could Junhwe have possibly meant anyway? "I didn't realise we had walked this far already. You should get going." He bowed and hurried along the path home.

"Thank you for earlier. For picking up my books."

And despite everything, Donghyuk still stopped at the sound of Junhwe's voice. "Oh that. How was the porridge though? I thought it was pretty good."

"I beg to differ."

"Why?" A pouty expression formed on Donghyuk's face quickly, to which the writer smirked at. "But I made it especially for you…" Donghyuk whined petulantly.

"I am only mocking you, Donghyuk-ssi." The smile on Junhwe's face grew. Donghyuk had never seen such joy cross the other's features before, and it made him feel terrific. His dreams tonight would surely be filled with the writer's handsome wide grin and tender eyes. "_I beg to differ_."

_"Everyone, please help me," _Yunhyeong pleaded.

Other than _A Scenario of Love,_ the troupe were to perform another play called _Do Not Forget. _It was definitely more affrontingly patriotic than _A Scenario of Love, _but it was Hanbin's intention to disguise the themes under the unmistakeably romantic plot of the melodrama. A subtle confession of love for the nation, as he explained and Junhwe had endorsed. Anyway, once again Seungyoon and Yunhyeong played the protagonists in_ Do Not Forget_. This time, as opposed to members of high society, they were peasants.

_ "Tell us what this is all about."_

_ "My brother is in a critical condition. I just heard the news-"_

"Open up!" shouted a voice, in Japanese, from the other side of the door of the studio.

"Who is it!" Yunhyeong yelled in annoyance, breaking out of his character.

"Open up! Open this door immediately! Open up!"

The actor headed for the door as everyone waited. "Man, I was on a roll just now. Who is it?"

"Open up!"

Just as Yunhyeong pulled back the door, a group of men recklessly burst inside the studio. "Move!" They were uniformed Japanese policemen. Everyone instantly froze and fell quiet.

Junhwe stepped out from the troupe members, now formed in a huddle. "What is the meaning of this?" He stood squarely in front of the lieutenant, a short and brutish sort of man with an unlikeable face. "You are being disruptive."

"Are you Korean?" the lieutenant asked, looking around the room before his eyes narrowed back in on Junhwe.

Kenta scurried forward, bowing quickly to the policemen. "What brings you here, officers?"

"You sound like a native. Are the others Korean?"

"We are students rehearsing for a show to perform on stage, so-"

"I asked if they are _Korean_, not what they are doing here."

"Well…"

"Yes," Junhwe answered loudly, but calm. And this got the attention of everyone, because he did not say it in Japanese. "We are Korean."

"Talk in the native language," the lieutenant sneered, face beginning to redden.

"I am doing so. Korean is my native language."

"You obnoxious Korean! How dare you!" Before anybody knew what was happening, the lieutenant had pulled out his pistol and aimed it at Junhwe, the thin muzzle pressed into his forehead. He cocked the hammer without hesitation, looking into Junhwe's eyes with violent anger. "I clearly told you to speak the native language."

Junhwe stood as he did, without any indication of yielding. Donghyuk was so nervous he could have fainted, but even then, his body did not dare to move.

Kenta bowed deeply again, coming between the two men at a complete standstill. "His Japanese is not yet fluent enough, sir. If you tell me why you are here, I can explain it to him."

The lieutenant glanced at Kenta in contemplation. With his handgun still on Junhwe, he responded, "These days, discontented Koreans and socialists with impure intentions meet up often to cook up ruses together."

"That is not what we are doing, sir."

"Well, that is for us to decide." Finally, bringing his gun down and decocking it before slipping it back into his hip, the lieutenant gestured to his inferiors. "You two. Search this place."

"Yes, sir!"

For a good twenty minutes, the policemen ransacked the studio. Books from the shelves were thrown to the ground, baskets overturned and emptied, everything carelessly rummaged through for any signs of misdemeanour. Everyone could only stand aside and watch silently, holding back their whimpers from the loud noises of their props hitting the floor.

The lieutenant snatched the script right out of Junhwe's hands, flipping through it roughly. Junhwe gripped his pencil tightly in anger.

"That is the script for a new play we are working on, sir," Kenta explained.

Without acknowledging the Japanese student's words, the lieutenant dropped the script of _Do Not Forget _onto the ground before stepping up onto the small stage. He shoved his boots into a stack of books in the corner, kicking over the props placed in the middle. The clay pots rolled around pathetically. A line of chairs fell over one by one, like toy dominoes. Hanbin barely managed to restrain Junhwe from lunging forward.

Finally, the lieutenant hopped off the stage with a heavy exhale. His officers had finished. "We did not find anything suspicious, sir."

Despite this, the lieutenant seemed satisfied with the damage he had wreaked. "Mark my words. If you cause any trouble, you Joseon people will be brutally punished according to the Public Order and Police Law. Let's go!"

"Yes, sir!"

"Now that we have cleaned up the place, let's share our opinions." Junhwe looked around the table, where everyone tried their best to hide their discomfort. That only made the atmosphere even more difficult. "Shall we continue rehearsing for our show, or should we just stop here?"

Slightly shaking, Jisoo raised her hand first. "I personally think we should stop here. I am a little scared."

"The police won't come barging in again like they did today," Junhwe offered, sounding as certain as his voice would let him.

"Staging a play in our mother tongue in Joseon is certainly very meaningful. But if someone is put in danger again because of that, then I am against it." Many people nodded fervently in agreement with Yunhyeong.

"That won't happen again," Junhwe insisted. "The script has already been deeply censored, and the police know that we are not deeply involved with the association."

"But… Jisoo has a point," Chanwoo added. "We started planning the show because of the association's suggestion, so we really cannot deny our connection with them altogether."

Around the table no one dared to look up to meet the director's eyes, instead twiddling their thumbs and noticing insignificant details on the table's wooden surface.

Donghyuk had had enough. He sighed, standing up from his seat. "Why are you all such cowards? We were all so excited about being able to perform a show in our language in our motherland. Is that not why everyone has been rehearsing so passionately? Our director, Junhwe-ssi, said it will be fine, so that means nothing will happen. Therefore, on that note, let's all cheer up, okay? Why are you just sitting there?" Donghyuk shoved Yunhyeong playfully. "Go get changed in your costume!"

"Yeah," the actor agreed, convinced. "Wait-"

Everyone burst into laughter, the joyful sound finally returning back to the studio after such a tense afternoon.

"I saw the wig over there," Jisoo noted, more confident than before. "You have the musical score, right Chanwoo?"

"Yes. It is sitting on top of the piano."

The pianist smiled buoyantly. "Then let's start again where we left off!"

As the troupe organised into their positions with renewed purpose, Junhwe smiled at Donghyuk warmly from across the room. _Thank you,_ he seemed to say with his expression.

Donghyuk smiled back.

"At first, I thought you were reckless," Donghyuk confessed. "I thought it was foolish to rebel against something you cannot win. But I don't think that way anymore. It is fine even if we cannot change anything. The fact that we are still trying something with hope is all that matters. Thank you." Donghyuk turned to face Junhwe. The lamppost illuminated the writer's face with a glimmering light. "For changing the way I think."

Junhwe was silent for a moment. Donghyuk had decided a long time ago that the writer looked the most striking when lost somewhere in the middle of his own thoughts. "I should thank you as well. For recognising my sincerity."

_I look down from a high place. Countless nights and countless buildings. Countless people come together in harmony. _

The next couple of weeks, in anticipation of the students' long-awaited summer break, passed like a breeze. The musical performances had been honed to perfection, and the plays were coming along just as well. Yunhyeong could finally remember all his lines. At the latest rehearsal both Hanbin and Junhwe conceded that Yunhyeong's portrayal of Yunhee was finally convincing - an objective conclusion that was unaffected by the fact they literally had to watch the actor pretend to be a woman for the past few months.

_ The world I watched nearby was just as stone-hearted. But the world I watched from afar is so disappointingly beautiful. _

"Come on! Hurry up!" cried Seungyoon as Kenta finally finished setting up the folding camera he had brought in for the occasion. The student grinned as he ran towards his friends, slotting into a space between Jisoo and Chanwoo. Everyone further straightened their backs and put on their biggest, happiest smiles as the flash went off.

_ Perhaps my youth watched nearby is just as stone-hearted, yet beautiful when watched from afar._

Underneath the buzz of excitement, there was a certain sadness in seeing the studio they had frequented for months now empty of props, all the vases and baskets and books packed into wooden boxes ready to be shipped.

"All of you have worked very hard for the past three months. We will leave for Joseon tomorrow. Including our last show in Gyeongseong, we will be performing in over ten cities. Just perform like you did in the rehearsals, and I am sure that our shows will be amazing." Junhwe smiled at everyone. "Kenta, thanks for all your help and support for the past months."

Kenta bowed. "No problem. Good luck everyone. I will be here looking after the stage."

Donghyuk found Junhwe on the deck of the ship, facing towards the water which looked much like glimmering diamonds underneath the sun. Around them children played cheerfully, ladies in neat kimonos wandered around underneath the shelter of their colourful parasols, and couples admired the wonderful view together.

Donghyuk leaned over the railing beside Junhwe. "This reminds me of the day that I left Joseon. It was sunny just like today. I was brimming with excitement, thinking that I could finally learn singing. And today, I feel as excited as I was that day. I finally have a chance to sing in my motherland."

The writer gazed down at the smaller male, only smiling in response, before following Donghyuk's gaze out into the vast, empty, but nevertheless boundless and tragically beautiful, sea.

**GYEONGSEONG**

_"Take that malcontented Korean to the precinct now."_

_ "Yes sir!"_

Suddenly from in between the police officers, Chohwan and Hyeonsoo, played by Seungyoon and Yunhyeong respectively, walked out to the front of the stage, the dramatic lighting falling over the solemn expression on their faces. _"Ten years ago, we had freedom. But today on this land, freedom no longer exists." _

As expected, the confronting interlude sent the audience in both admiration and shock. The protagonists naturally resumed their positions.

_ "What are you waiting for? Take him right now!"_

_ "Please forgive us just once!" _Yunhyeong cried, getting on his knees.

_ "Do not be servile,"_ Seungyoon mumbled. _"I will honourably let them take me."_

_ "Chohwan-ah! Chohwan!"_

The lighting dimmed as Seungyoon got dragged off stage by Hanbin and Chanwoo, playing the officers. The audience clapped and Yunhyeong grinned in satisfaction as he disappeared from the view of the stage. Watching from the other side, Junhwe and Donghyuk gave the actor a silent clap, to which he bowed theatrically in response. But now it was time for Donghyuk's performance, and when he lowered his hands after clapping for Yunhyeong, he realised he was still trembling.

"Gosh. I am so nervous."

Junhwe squeezed Donghyuk's shoulder gently. "Just sing as you have been practicing. Then you will be fine."

"Junhwe-ssi, could you stand here and watch me? I think it will help me feel less nervous."

"Then I will."

Reassured by Junhwe, Donghyuk walked onto the stage slowly, the thrum of hushed whispers being broken by the sound of his footsteps. The audience looked on in expectation. Donghyuk briefly glanced back at Junhwe, who smiled encouragingly. With a deep breath, the singer let go of his shirt as it had been bunched in his sweaty hands, and nodded at Jisoo, who was ready on the piano.

Donghyuk opened his mouth. With his heavenly and powerful voice, he told a story of pain and tragedy through the song, bringing some in the audience to tears. Glowing like an angel under the beam of light that fell over him, Donghyuk, in that moment, became more beautiful than anything Junhwe had ever seen, more memorable than any line he had ever read.

Donghyuk was enchanting. Much more than any dream Junhwe had ever dreamt.

The bar was loud and bustling, full of young couples and students. Women with their hair underneath bejewelled cloche hats swung to the music, the ends of their dazzling dresses twirling around their ankles, and men in slim patterned suits with accessories in vibrant colours, all drank and danced cheerfully to the live band's exciting songs. Red velvet curtains tied with golden rope lined the walls, pretty chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Maybe if one closed their eyes, they could imagine that instead of Gyeongseong they were in a jazz bar somewhere in Paris or Chicago or London.

Sitting right by the dance floor, chatting and laughing jovially over a tall glass of beer with Jisoo was Donghyuk. On the other side of the bar, underneath the light of a floral mosaic lamp, Junhwe shared a bottle of whiskey with Hanbin at a table by the window.

"It seemed like the show in Gyeongseong would never come, but the tour is already over," Hanbin commented. He sipped his drink in contemplation. More than anything, he was pleased that the tour had finished without trouble.

Just like Junhwe had anticipated, Hanbin did not particularly find the alcohol to his taste. "I know."

"Junhwe. How many years do you have left before you graduate?"

"I will be graduating after three years."

"What will you do after graduation? Gosh, I should not have asked you that question." Hanbin sighed. "I know you have to go back to your hometown."

Junhwe grimaced. "What about you, hyung? What is your plan after you graduate?"

At that moment, Yunhyeong must have done something incredibly hilarious because Donghyuk could be seen grabbing tightly onto Jisoo's hand, falling against her as his whole body shook with laughter. Hanbin smiled. He always had the same adoring look on his face when watching Yunhyeong. But when he turned back to Junhwe, all that was left of his expression was a sad smile. "I do not want to be in Joseon or Japan. I would like to go somewhere far to experience a broader world."

"I am sure you will become a great writer no matter where you are."

"It would be wonderful if you could keep writing as well, Junhwe-ya."

Just as Jisoo had finished enthusiastically gushing to Donghyuk about how cool she thought Seungyoon looked when he was immersed in character, the man himself waltzed over with a bright smile on his face. He was clearly intoxicated, much like his co-star. Both seemed to be celebrating the end of the tour with the utmost energy. "The music is fantastic. Would you care for a dance?"

The pianist perked. "Me?"

Seungyoon extended his hand in invitation quite theatrically. "Yes, you."

Jisoo blushed, accepting the actor's offer. "Donghyuk-ssi. I will be back in a bit." Donghyuk waved them off merrily.

Past the half-empty bottles of beer and silver platter holding remnants of fruit and other neglected snacks on the table, Donghyuk could see Junhwe engaged in a deep conversation with Hanbin on the other side of the ballroom.

The music was loud and cheerful and Donghyuk wanted to express his happiness by dancing like everyone else. Just as he stood up, a slight dizziness from the alcohol undulating through his body while he debated whether he still wanted to approach the writer first, Chanwoo appeared in front of him, taking his hand.

"Now that the last show is over, you must be a bit sad."

Maybe Hanbin did not like liquor, but he had to concede that it brought out his tender sentiments. While everyone made merry of such a splendid night, the two writers preferred to sit back and reflect wistfully.

"Yes," Junhwe agreed. His eyes blankly followed the movements of the singer and violinist dancing together on the floor. "I think I will miss every moment that we spent together."

"What are you staring at?"

"Nothing."

"Here." Hanbin sighed, somewhat knowingly. Maybe it was the fact that they were both writers, who thought pen and paper was enough to unburden their hearts. Sometimes it wasn't like that. Or, maybe it was the simple fact that they were in the same boat. Anyhow, Hanbin had always found Junhwe easy to read. "Let me pour you a glass, Junhwe-ya."

"Do you like Junhwe, or do you love him?"

At Chanwoo's sudden question, Donghyuk was pulled out of his trance. It was inevitable that he fell into a daydream about what it would have felt like to dance with Junhwe, whose shoulders were as tall and broad as the violinist's, but this was immediately swept from his mind.

"Either way, you should stop here."

The tempo of the song picked up suddenly, and their footsteps quickened to match it. "Why… should I?" Donghyuk asked.

"Because the pain in your heart will only become greater as your feelings for him grow."

Donghyuk smiled innocently, almost arrogantly. "You see, I have no idea what you are saying right now."

It was then when the door burst open and screams filled the hall. The band stopped playing and everyone halted in confusion. The crowd on the floor parted as a group of policemen barged through, the harsh shatter of bottles being knocked onto the ground and objections of brave protestors being silenced by brute force.

"Who is the leader of the troupe that just finished their tour?"

The fun and lively mood from only a few seconds earlier died immediately. Everyone, eyes wide with fear, looked around the ballroom. The same anxiety and nervousness that arose in Donghyuk during the incident at the studio in Tokyo came back, and he did not know what to do. _Because _he did not know what to do. _Because _he was so scared of what could happen.

Junhwe stepped out. Donghyuk's heart dropped to the bottom of his stomach. "That would be me. What is the matter?"

The police captain smirked. "Take him."

As he was dragged out of the ballroom in thick silence, Junhwe turned back, eyes finding Donghyuk's, who stared on horror-stricken and completely motionless.

After what felt like an eternity and a half, Hanbin finally appeared back outside the bar, where the others awaited nervously, desperate to find out what happened. But the writer did not look like he bore with his arrival any good news. Donghyuk rushed forward. "How did it go? Is Junhwe-ssi okay?"

"I don't think they will let him go today. He probably won't be released for another few days."

"The script was censored and approved. So what's wrong?" Chanwoo asked.

"I heard it is because of that line. _Ten years ago, we had freedom. But today on this land, freedom no longer exists._"

"We simply stated a fact," Yunhyeong uttered, heated. "Is that a crime? Why does he have to get locked up?"

"They did it to show us what happens when we talk about freedom in Joseon."

Waiting outside Jongno Police Station was excruciating and torturous but Donghyuk did not know what else he could do. At any slight sound of anyone coming through the large doors, Donghyuk lurched forward with unchanging hope. But for the entire night none of the people leaving the building from the front doors, in between two Japanese flags stretched to the ceiling, were Junhwe.

Donghyuk sank against the stone gates. The sky was dark and empty. Why did this make him feel so miserable? The mere thought of Junhwe being punished, or even worse hurt, brought the same pain as if someone had just stabbed his heart a thousand times.

His vision started to blur. Donghyuk did not hear the door open this time, though even if he had maybe he would not have perked. But it was Junhwe exiting the station.

And when Junhwe took a step towards him, face all bloodied and bruised but wearing an apologetic smile, he could only stand on his spot and come to the realisation that he was in love with Junhwe.

By the time Junhwe was close to him, close enough to touch and ensure him that this was not just a dream, the singer had already burst into tears.

"Are you feeling calmer now?" Junhwe noticed that Donghyuk had stopped sniffling. When he glanced down at the smaller male, Donghyuk's eyes were still puffy and red under the glare of the streetlights.

"Junhwe-ssi, are you not in pain?"

"I am fine," the writer assured.

"Do not lie to me," Donghyuk pouted angrily, and of course Junhwe could not help but smirk. "You were beaten."

Donghyuk turned to face Junhwe all of a sudden. Through his thick dark lashes his worried eyes agonised the raw cut on Junhwe's cheek, the bruise forming on the jaw, and stopped at the taller male's pale lips. Then his gaze faltered, and he turned away in fluster, scurrying along the path.

Junhwe took a moment to adore Donghyuk, and then hurried after him.

"We are here," Donghyuk said as they arrived at the end of the road, gesturing to a small farm house with a thatched straw roof. "This is where I live."

Donghyuk's mother carried in a tray with hot tea into Donghyuk's room, placing it on the floor between Donghyuk and Junhwe. "I am sorry. There is not much we can offer our guests."

Just then, the door slid open a little and Donghyuk's siblings could be seen peering in curiously.

"Also…" The older woman winced as she got to study Junhwe's face closer under the bedroom light. "What happened to your face?" she asked, in the politest way she could.

Donghyuk's eyes widened anxiously. This would not end well if his parents found out about the earlier events. "He just got scratched a little. Don't worry about it, mother."

"It doesn't really look like a small scratch…"

"Excuse me, sir," the teenage boy by the door interrupted suddenly. "What exactly is your relationship with our older brother?"

Caught by surprise, Junhwe blinked at Donghyuk, who only stared back as if awaiting his answer too. The writer wet his lip. "Ah… We are…."

Donghyuk's sister, a pretty girl with wide eyes, slapped her brother on the shoulder. "Where are your manners, Jaehyuk?! I am so sorry. My brother is a bit immature."

"Come on Jaemin, are you not curious?" Jaehyuk complained. "Mother, what about you? Hey, stop pulling my hair! It hurts!"

Once they were finally left alone, after the sound of Jaehyuk's loud whining could no longer be heard from the hallway, Junhwe broke into a wide grin. "Your siblings are bright and energetic. And your parents seem warm-hearted as well."

"They are my pillars of strength. Once we return, I want to be theirs."

Glancing around the small room, Junhwe fixated on the books organised on the worn bookshelf. "It must have been difficult for your family for you to live in Tokyo. You are not well off…" The writer looked down regretfully. "Sorry."

Donghyuk shrugged, thumbing the end of his shirt. "The same goes for Junhwe-ssi too. You do not have much, but you chip in so much for the plays." Donghyuk looked up with a smile, and then frowned quickly as his eyes fell over Junhwe's wound again. "Hold on for a second."

From his drawer, Donghyuk pulled out a small round container of white balm from a woven basket containing other medical supplies. Focusing only on the cut, Donghyuk rubbed some of the balm onto his finger before applying it to Junhwe's face. There was hesitation at first, until Donghyuk finally put his finger on the wound. The minty balm was cool and supposed to sting, but under Donghyuk's gentle touch all Junhwe felt was warmth.

A warmth that became a burning fire in his heart. For the second time that night, he wanted to reach out and embrace Donghyuk, ask for forgiveness for making him cry.

He wanted to. But he did not.

And, too, for the second time that night, Donghyuk's gaze faltered as his eyes met Junhwe's. The singer wiped his hand on a light blue handkerchief, contemplating what he was about to say.

"There is a place I would like to go with you, Junhwe-ssi. After your wounds heal, could you spare me some time?"

The tram whistled as it passed through downtown. It was a lovely day, with the street vendor's ice lollies being wildly popular with both adults and children alike, strolling under the scorching summer heat. Despite the stores he had visited as a child and walls of every building in town being covered in propaganda posters and Japanese flags, Donghyuk felt a sense of optimism from seeing people going about their everyday lives.

A man wearing a brown fedora hat walked past them. Donghyuk glanced at him, looked away, and then turned back for another glance.

"I cannot see myself wearing those hats," the singer announced suddenly. "It is as if I am advertising myself as a modern man. It seems too ostentatious. It’s a bit embarrassing, really. They do not particularly look that nice either."

Beside him, Junhwe made a noise of disagreement. "I'm not sure about that. I quite like those hats."

"Really?" Donghyuk perked, and Junhwe only smiled as an answer. "You know. There was something I was curious about. It is about the poem I saw in your room. At the end of the poem it said Youngjun. What does that mean?"

"It is just the pen name I use when I write."

Donghyuk gasped in excitement. "Mine is Youngjin! Goo Youngjun. Kim Youngjin. We are quite similar!"

They passed a record store, where music could be heard playing from inside. Donghyuk stopped, looking through the glass front at the record on display. The sleeve jacket showed a painting of a boat at sea.

"_Waves of the Danube_ by Ion Ivanovici," the singer mused. "It is my favourite song."

"It is beautiful," Junhwe agreed. "By the way, where was it that you wanted to go with me?"

Tall white stone columns peeking out from behind luxurious red velvet curtains, a beautiful crystal glass chandelier that hung down from the domed ceiling, fracturing dazzling light across the entire room. The Danseongsa was the most beautiful and prestigious theatre in Gyeongseong, possibly the entirety of Joseon, and whenever Donghyuk closed his eyes, he imagined himself standing on its very stage, singing to a theatre full of admiring people.

"After singing in the practice room all along, it was nerve-wrecking to sing in front of an audience. At the same time, I felt emotional to be singing on stage. And then a desire sparked inside me. I want to become the best sopranist in Joseon and sing on a bigger stage. I also want more people to hear me sing. It is my dream to sing on that stage." Donghyuk turned to Junhwe with a hopeful smile. "If I get the opportunity to perform here someday, would you come and watch me, Junhwe-ssi? You can help me not to be nervous and do well in front of the audience."

"I will," Junhwe responded, in a tender voice. And with this Donghyuk could barely hide the delight on his face, until eventually he turned away to admire the theatre.

So, the more Junhwe watched Donghyuk, how his cheeks flushed rosily, the deeper his feelings inevitably became. It felt like fireworks bursting in bright colour and light. Flowers blossoming endlessly.

Donghyuk set his empty cup on the table, frowning. He was not yet drunk, making a comment that he was having so much fun that he would prefer not to forget the night, but he had turned pouty again. "I was blabbering on about my dream, but I have not asked about yours. What is your dream, Junhwe-ssi?"

"I am not sure. I never thought about such a thing."

"Dreams do not always have to be grand!" Donghyuk declared loudly. Junhwe smirked as other people in the bar glanced their way, bringing a finger to his lips to tease the singer. Donghyuk blushed. "What gives you joy? Try to think about what makes you happiest."

After a moment of silence, Junhwe answered, "I guess it would be when I write." Donghyuk listened with interest. "And when other people read my writing. And to write until my last day. I think that is it."

"You can always do that. Now hurry up and finish that glass," Donghyuk urged. "We have somewhere to go."

There must have been something especially stagnant about the air outside Jongo Police Station. Or the rocks were simply not quite as airborne as the ones from the creek by Donghyuk's house. He stood on his tip-toes in anticipation, only for the rock he threw to land on the path outside the decorated building.

The singer sighed in disappointment. "I should throw farther." Picking up another rock from the garden, this time in a different colour and shape, he made to throw, only for Junhwe to catch his arm midway through the air.

"What are you doing? Is this a joke to you, Donghyuk-ssi?" Junhwe accused, in a serious tone.

Donghyuk looked down, suddenly feeling the same as a child being scolded.

Junhwe suddenly presented a giant rock to Donghyuk. It was about the size of his entire hand. "_Now_ we are talking."

The writer launched the rock over the gate, where seconds later the satisfying sound of window glass breaking was followed by someone storming out from the front doors.

"Which idiot threw that rock? Hey, you two!"

Junhwe and Donghyuk ran down the street, their faces bright with exhilaration and blood rushing through their bodies. They ran and ran until they ended back downtown, giggling immaturely as they dodged passers-by on the street, who only watched in confusion.

Panting, Junhwe stopped and turned back to see Donghyuk behind him, pausing for a breath. Rickshaws passed by in a coloured blur and street vendors cried merrily. Junhwe grabbed Donghyuk's hand with a big smile, and they continued running as the policeman blew his whistle frustratedly. They turned into a side street, where Donghyuk fell breathless against a stone wall.

It was after they heard the policeman pass the entrance of their alley, clearly having lost sight of them, when Junhwe noticed how close he was standing to Donghyuk, pressed up protectively against the smaller male with a hand holding his to the wall.

Donghyuk stared back with wide, innocent eyes, and Junhwe longed to lean in, close the gap between them and taste his sweet breath. In that moment, how beautiful Donghyuk was to Junhwe, with his high cheeks red from running and damp front hairs curled against his forehead, he would never know. But such a memory would torment the writer's dreams, sneak in from the corners of his thoughts and then become the entire reverie.

Junhwe leaned in, trembling. Donghyuk closed his eyes slowly, waiting.

The kiss never came. Junhwe uncurled his hand from Donghyuk's against the wall, and Donghyuk opened his eyes, slightly disoriented.

It was getting late. Junhwe walked ahead first. "We should go."

"By the way, since we are the same age, we should address each other casually," Donghyuk announced. "I will start calling you by your first name. _Junhwe_. And you can just call me Donghyuk."

"We can do that later."

Donghyuk's face reddened for some reason. "I actually have something to say." Junhwe looked on, not exposing any emotion. "Ah, never mind. I will tell you once we arrive in Tokyo."

"Donghyuk-ssi."

"Yes?"

"I invited the troupe to my house in Mokpo. We are spending the night there before returning to Tokyo. You should come too."

Donghyuk's eyes brightened. His entire body lifted towards Junhwe, as if filled with hope at Junhwe's words. "To Junhwe-ssi's home?"

Junhwe nodded. "Please do come."

Junhwe's tram finally arrived. "I will get going then," he said.

Donghyuk could not stop smiling, and the writer could only watch on in sadness while boarding the tram. Donghyuk waved cheerfully. "Yes. See you Junhwe-ssi!"

"He's running a bit late!" Seungyoon complained.

Gyeongseong Station at this time of day was usually busy, but the sticky and oppressive heat only made matters worse for the troupe, who sat on the platform with their luggage, desperately fanning themselves.

Jisoo stood up from the bench at the sight of their last member. "Donghyuk-ssi! Here!"

"I am sorry to have made all of you wait," Donghyuk apologised as he approached, placing his suitcase beside Yunhyeong's. But nearly everyone forgave the singer, dressed in a lovely black suit, as soon as he smiled at them prettily.

And no one forgot to notice the new accessory on his head: a black fedora hat. "You look great!"

"You have no idea how long we have waited for you," grumbled Seungyoon, not really meaning it.

"I am really sorry," Donghyuk apologised again, not really meaning it.

Standing the furthest away from the singer, Junhwe remained silent. Even after they boarded the train, he did not make eye contact with Donghyuk, who was left feeling confused by the writer's actions.

They arrived in Mokpo after half a day's journey on the train. It was the late afternoon by then, and although slightly restless everyone was still cheerful and high-spirited. Donghyuk had never visited Mokpo before, so everything was interesting to him.

Walking down the path to Junhwe's house, Donghyuk could not believe his eyes. It was _huge_. He stood on his tip-toes in attempt to peek over the stone walls, and the countless buildings before his eyes seemed to stretch on endlessly. They had been on this path for a few minutes, and still not reached the front gate.

Seungyoon took a deep breath. "The air is so fresh here."

Donghyuk walked closer to Jisoo. "And this whole time I thought Junhwe-ssi was a poor self-supporting student," he said in a disbelieving whisper.

"Oh, no way. He is the son of the wealthiest family in Mokpo."

At the front gate two servants appeared, greeting the troupe courteously before taking care of their luggage. Junhwe led the group past the gates and onto a wide path lined with immaculately trimmed evergreen topiary and vibrant hydrangea bushes. They crossed a bridge over a pond covered with water lilies in bloom.

"This place seriously looks like a painting," Yunhyeong commented in absolute awe, for maybe the fifth time now. "A real life painting."

From the thick wooden doors of the main hall, a short male dressed in a pale pink hanbok came outside. Donghyuk did not know why he was surprised, given that what they had seen of Junhwe's home already resembled a palace fit for the royal family. But it was still an odd sight, to see the man's prim traditional dress and then to look around at the rest of the troupe, comfortable in their Western-style outfits. "Hello," the man greeted them formally, his voice impassive and reserved.

Junhwe hardly acknowledged the man, keeping his eyes on his guests. "I will introduce. This is Jinhwan. And these are my friends. We study in Tokyo together."

The group bowed uniformly as one, to which the man bowed respectfully back in response.

And without wasting a moment, Jinhwan's attention returned to Junhwe. "You should greet your father first, my dear husband."

Donghyuk's eyes grew wide. He needed a moment to comprehend what had just passed through his ears.

_ … Husband? _

"Please follow me."

Everyone followed Jinhwan into the building, until all that was left was Donghyuk standing at the bottom of the steps, a distance of a few steps between him and the taller male who only looked back at him with an unreadable expression. Donghyuk felt betrayed. Deceived. Heartbroken. And, maybe most of all, foolish.

How silly of him. How heinously silly of him.

Donghyuk gripped tighter onto the handle of his bag, looking down to the ground as tears fell from his eyes.

The lavish dinner banquet was followed by a gathering outdoors, underneath the sparkling night sky. The troupe sat around small glass tables with colourful candles and alcohol. At the end of the beautiful garden was a banyan tree.

"We will now commence our disbanding ceremony in the form of a small concert. Please applaud. First, we will hear from Hanbin." Yunhyeong gestured to the writer, who stood up from his chair in queue. "Actually, please sit down Hanbin-ssi. We will hear from our star, Kim Donghyuk! Everyone, give him a big hand! Louder!"

Seungyoon cheered passionately as the singer stood up and walked forward slowly. "Donghyuk-ssi. Please sing us a song."

Jisoo, smiling eagerly from the piano, nodded at Donghyuk before striking the keys. Much expectation hung in the air as the song entered into what should have been the second verse. Donghyuk stared emptily at his friends, who all kept encouraging grins on their faces, and he swallowed, trying to find the words to the song. But one look to Junhwe's direction, who sat and watched unemotionally, and Donghyuk felt his throat choke up.

"I am sorry," Donghyuk said finally, in a quiet voice. The piano stopped. "My throat feels a bit hoarse."

Yunhyeong nodded understandingly. "You sang all throughout the shows. You must be tired, Donghyuk-ssi. Why don't you take a rest." Donghyuk bowed his head as he walked back to his seat. "Chanwoo, show us what you've got."

"How about this song? That Junhwe said was too sad to play during our tour."

"Oh, that one. Yes."

Halfway through, while everyone was busily distracted by Chanwoo's performance, Donghyuk stood up and left the garden.

Yunhyeong sighed contentedly as they stepped outside the Goo estate. "Ah. We had so much fun. Thank you for having us, Junhwe-ya."

Holding on to their suitcases, everyone agreed and nodded gratefully to the writer. Albeit slightly overwhelming and unexpected at first, the stay at the estate was _very_ nice.

"I do wonder what urgent issue came up for Donghyuk-ssi to only leave a note and then head home," Jisoo wondered aloud.

"I am sure he had a good reason," Chanwoo offered, glancing at Junhwe with awareness.

"When will you go back to Tokyo?" Hanbin asked Junhwe as the everyone started to walk off.

Junhwe looked down at the ground. It was slightly wet from the spell of rain overnight. "I am thinking of staying for a while before going back."

Hanbin patted the fellow writer on the back. "I will see you in Tokyo, then."

"Sure."

He had always disliked his father's office. Despite the sun coming through the window, the room still felt large and cold, and his father sat in front of a six-panel wooden screen, painted with wild cranes against a blue background.

Junhwe kneeled stiffly on the floor from a distance away, just before two large glass doors. He kept his head bowed in submission.

"I told you not to do anything foolish. But you have been running around with those clowns and writing literature. You have been living like a degenerate."

"I apologise," Junhwe responded with little resistance. He bowed again.

The old man sighed heavily. It was a father's sigh. "Junhwe. You are the eldest son of this family, and the successor to our business. I urge you to keep this in your mind. Quit fooling around writing stories and trying to be a patriot. Just think about taking over the family business one day."

"Yes, father."

Usually, Junhwe's study was something of a retreat, a writer's haven. Sitting in the middle of a garden in the estate, the small building was covered in purple and white wisteria. Inside, the study was decorated with rich wooden furnishings, thin white curtains that lifted dreamily with the breeze, and soft white lights. But on this night, Junhwe only sat at his desk, staring blankly into the wall. He pressed his palms into his eyes, sighing deeply.

Jinhwan came in to the study. His footsteps were quiet. He had learned how to make himself unnoticeable, to take up the least amount of space he could.

"My dear husband." The small male placed a black fedora on Junhwe's desk. "I was too out of my mind earlier to hand over the items your guests forgot to pack when they left."

"I will deliver it to them when I arrive back in Tokyo."

"It has been a while since you came home, husband. I humbly suggest that you refrain from doing the activities that your father despises. Your father wishes that you devote yourself to the family business after you finish your studies and return home, so you should do that. If he finds out that you still write literature, he will only be deeply disappointed."

Maybe for the first time ever since their marriage, Junhwe looked at Jinhwan. Properly looked at him, bundled up in his flawless pale green hanbok, tight posture, and clasped hands. Junhwe noticed a small mole on Jinhwan's cheek. He noticed the tiny lines around his eyes.

"Is it not hard for you?" Junhwe asked. "Is it not exhausting to live a life that has already been mapped out?"

Jinhwan blinked, the answer for once not one living on the tip of his tongue. "I have never thought of it that way."

**TOKYO**

To say that Junhwe's heart fluttered, when he came out of his lecture to see Donghyuk waiting for him, would have been a downright lie. It did more than flutter; it beat erratically, it burst out of his chest and rushed towards the singer.

Perhaps. Junhwe only returned Donghyuk's smile.

"It has been five months, has it not?"

"It has," Junhwe answered, contemplatively. After returning to Japan, the events of the summer break seemed like nothing more than a fever dream. The troupe had organised a gathering during the semester, but Junhwe had a commitment he could not get out of. He later heard from Jisoo that Donghyuk did not come, either.

"I… I am heading back to Joseon in two days. Since we used to perform together, I thought it would be rude to not say goodbye."

"I see."

"Thank you for inviting me," Donghyuk turned to Junhwe and said, not even the sun able to brighten the faded light in his eyes. "To your home in Joseon."

"News! News! Arishima Takeo committed suicide with his lover!" A young newsboy ran around, flinging articles for anyone who cared. The sheets flitted uselessly, falling onto the ground like dirty, dusty flower petals. Junhwe and Donghyuk stopped to listen, until the boy disappeared from the campus park.

Donghyuk's perplexity drew delicate lines into his forehead. "If a forbidden love is causing so much pain, you can just end it. Why take to such drastic measures?"

"The loneliness they will be left with after they part must have been terrifying for them."

"Well, we will all eventually forget anyway." Donghyuk offered his hand to Junhwe. "I wish you the best, Junhwe-ssi."

Junhwe stared at Donghyuk's hand, eventually taking it. "I wish you the best as well, Donghyuk-ssi."

Donghyuk let go first, heading off on the path under the shade of tall trees. Junhwe's hand hung in the air, still grasping at the empty space as the person he wanted walked away from him, right before his own eyes.

I MISS YOU SO MUCH THAT I WANT TO RUN TO YOU. BUT I WILL NOT DO THAT.

IF MY EYES HAPPEN TO CATCH YOU, MY BODY WILL BE SWEPT ALONG.

ALONG WITH LONGING, AND YOU WILL LINGER IN MY MIND.

I MISS YOU; I MISS YOU.

THAT IS WHY I TURN AROUND.

"I Miss You" (poem by Goo Junhwe)


	2. THIS ROAD OF AGONY - END

HE DOES NOT KNOW: TRUE IT HURTS TO BE TIED WITH LOVE, BUT

IT WILL HURT MORE TO CUT THE TIES OF LOVE, IT WILL HURT

MORE THAN EVEN DEATH.

"The Master's Sermon" (poem by Han Yongun)

**1 9 2 6**

**JOSEON**

Thick black satin curtains, intricate floral wallpapering and dark wooden furnishings. Leather chairs and tall bookshelves, dazzling glass chandelier hanging overhead. A gramophone in the corner, softly thrumming.

Although Junhwe had gotten the office decorated to his liking, one glance spared to the piles of documents and contracts that endlessly covered his desk, and he felt suffocated and overwhelmed. This never changed.

Just as Junhwe put down the telephone, having finished a tedious business discussion, his assistant Seunghoon walked in, perhaps too energetically, presenting the day's newspaper to him.

"Thank you."

"You are welcome, Mr Goo."

Boredly, Junhwe flipped through the paper, eyes skimming over the articles. On the third page spread, in the bottom left corner, was an advertisement that finally caught his attention.

_ Singer Kim Donghyuk to perform at Danseongsa Theatre!_

Down to even the performer's dressing room, everything about the Danseongsa was so breathtakingly beautiful. If Donghyuk had seen this place a few years ago as a hopeful singer, maybe he would have sobbed hysterically at how marvellous it was.

Hanging from the ornate white ceiling was a shower of polished crystals splintering radiant light across the marbled floor. A romantic floral garland wrapped around the doorway, underneath which a curtain of pale wisteria vines fell, draping over the ground. Covering the gold-rimmed wooden vanity Donghyuk sat behind were countless bouquets of flowers; carnations and lilies and orchids and begonias, all fragrant and snow white. So pure, so innocent, and so lonely.

Donghyuk stared into the mirror, applying satiny gloss to his lips without emotion. The ribbon-tied silken shirt he wore was the colour of softened blue sea glass. He had always dreamed of days like this, but now that it had finally arrived, he felt nothing.

_"Donghyuk-ssi."_

Though there was nothing else that could pull Donghyuk out of his trance, make his heart lurch faster, than the sound of that voice. Deep, calm, and tender. The voice that filled Donghyuk's dreams and encompassed all his desires.

Donghyuk looked around eagerly, straightening in his seat. "Junhwe-ssi?"

But the singer's gentle voice only echoed through the empty room, disappearing like a ghost, an illusion that dissipated when morning came. It was nothing more than his wishful thinking. Nothing more than unavailing longing. With a dejected sigh, Donghyuk turned back to the mirror. How foolish he was. It had already been years. "Of course it won't be him."

Under the bright lights shining down to the wide stage, Donghyuk walked to the microphone slowly as the audience clapped loudly and in complete awe at the singer's ethereal beauty.

As the piano keys struck, Donghyuk looked out into the crowd with sorrow in his eyes. The room was entirely filled, with wealthy and well-dressed people who could afford the luxury of musical concerts. And in his dreams, he had longed to sing on such a prestigious stage. But what did this mean, at the end?

Donghyuk sang, the lyrics flowing out of his mouth as his mind wandered elsewhere, his eyes passively floating around the theatre.

Until he saw someone he recognised, standing right at the back. Donghyuk's heart dropped, and suddenly all the words left his mouth. _Could it be?_ The man left the theatre and the piano came to a halt at Donghyuk's sudden silence.

Donghyuk ran off the stage with tears in his eyes and his heart stammering wildly. The audience watched in shock and confusion as Donghyuk ran up the aisle and left the theatre.

Outside, the cold night air hit his body brutally and the bustling noise and lights of downtown Gyeongseong completely flooded Donghyuk's senses. He looked around desperately in the crowd of passers-by, almost giving up.

But then he saw. In the distance, in a black suit.

"Junhwe-ssi!" the singer called.

Donghyuk's want, his longing and desire, burst right through his chest.

"Junhwe-ssi, it's you. Isn't it."

The male stopped in step, turning around slowly. Noises turned to silence; the colours faded into a blur. It was him. It was Junhwe.

"Donghyuk."

"I heard that you are currently running your family business in your hometown," Donghyuk said. It had been years since they walked down this path together. That time, Junhwe was bloody and beat-up and it was the first time Donghyuk felt like someone had ripped his heart apart. The surrounding lush green forest had grown taller and thicker since then, but the lampposts glowed ever so brightly, and the crickets still sang the same songs. It was comforting that some things never changed. "Hanbin-hyung said you were too busy to even respond to his letters."

"At the end of every letter he sends me, this is what he asks: Junhwe, have you still been writing?" Junhwe paused for a moment, and Donghyuk stole a glance at him. "I could not write back. I could not tell him that I have only been signing contracts and documents rather than writing poems."

They walked on the stone bridge over the lake, covered with patches of lily pads and white lotus flowers. The water was glassy and black.

"You looked amazing on the stage today."

"Thank you for remembering your promise to come and watch me perform."

"You did not seem nervous at all." Junhwe smiled encouragingly at the singer. "Not enough to require my support, anyway," he added, with a soft chuckle.

Even though they stood on the highest point of the bridge, the moon was still far, far away.

"I don't feel nervous when performing on stage anymore. But," and Donghyuk's voice began to tremble as he looked up at Junhwe with watery eyes, "seeing you made my heart beat fast. Because you were watching me, and I was afraid that you might leave. Leave any moment and not come back. I thought I would be able to forget you. I really thought I would. However-" Donghyuk paused as he choked on his words, tears falling down his pretty face. "It struck me when I saw you in the audience. I had never been able to forget you."

Junhwe, in a sudden and unhesitant way, wrapped his arms around the smaller male, pressed him tightly to his chest. And because Donghyuk could hold it in no longer, he started crying inconsolably.

So maybe for all these years, he had tried. He tried enough. He tried to forget Junhwe. But suddenly all the poems became about Junhwe. All the songs became about Junhwe. Even though he knew they could not be together, he still longed for Junhwe. His laugh, his voice, his expression when focused on something he was passionate about. He thought going weeks without having Junhwe's smile colour his daydreams, no longer feeling his heart lurch even when he read or sang about love, meant he had forgotten.

But in that theatre, when he saw Junhwe from the stage, as if he was still caught up inside one of his dreams, it occurred to him that the flame never died. In this embrace, where their lonesome and yearning hearts beat right through their chests, Junhwe's warmth was all he ever wanted. And this could not last forever, he knew. But now that it all rushed back to him, if he was to live without the feeling of Junhwe's warmth after this moment, then he didn't want to live at all.

Junhwe pressed his cheek against Donghyuk's temple, the singer's tears soaking his shoulder. "Just leave it be then. And I will too."

It was only yesterday when Donghyuk stood here, waiting for the tram home after performing at the broadcasting station, but tonight it was different because Junhwe stood right beside him.

The writer was not short of giddy feelings either, only grinning adoringly at Donghyuk and holding his hand tightly up until the moment the singer stepped onto the tram that had arrived.

"I will write to you. You don't have to respond to Hanbin-hyung but I will be expecting an answer back from you."

"All right."

Donghyuk smiled elatedly. "I will get going then. Pick up your pen again, Junhwe. I am quite fond of your writing, you see."

Junhwe nodded, waving goodbye as the tram left the station.

"You did well today." The broadcasting director beamed as the singer stepped out of the recording room. The sopranist's voice had proven to be popular, with many new listeners tuning in to the station since the past weeks.

Donghyuk politely accepted the envelope that was handed to him. "Thank you."

The director watched remorsefully as Donghyuk glanced at the cheque inside. "Donghyuk-ssi, you are such a phenomenal singer. I always feel bad that I cannot pay you more, which is what you deserve. Our budget is quite low at the moment since this is just a test run of the show."

"That’s okay. I am grateful for the opportunity to sing."

"Thank you. Well, that being said… the song you sang today was wonderful. But you usually sing classical music, which most people find challenging and are not too familiar with. Frankly, I am one of those people. From now on, how about you sing songs that more people are familiar with?"

"Ah." Donghyuk nodded. "Okay. I understand what you are trying to say."

"Great! I knew you would get my point right away. Then I shall look forward to your next performance."

Donghyuk stepped into his room with a tired sigh, only for the door to open moments later as his mother walked in.

"Are you home from the broadcasting show, Donghyuk?"

"Yes." Donghyuk placed his bag on the floor and took off his suit jacket.

"Did you get paid by any chance?" she asked, expectantly. "We have completely run out of rice."

"Oh, yes. I did." Donghyuk pulled the envelope out from his breast pocket, handing it to his mother. "Here you go."

"Thank you, Donghyuk-ah." But the expression on her face dropped the moment she read the cheque. "By the way, whether it is a television program or a recital, why do you always get paid so little?"

Donghyuk grimaced. He tried to not let his mother's grumbling tone hurt his feelings too much. She only wanted the best for the family. "I guess it is because people are still not familiar with vocal music yet."

"Gosh. Still… you studied in Japan. Even errand runners get paid more than this." Unable to do anything more, she patted Donghyuk on the shoulder. "You must be tired. Get some rest, son."

"Yes."

_To Goo Youngjun,_

_ Junhwe, how are things there? I am… doing pretty well. I have nothing to worry about. Things are going great here. I go anywhere where I can sing. Being able to sing in my mother tongue here in Joseon makes me incredibly happy. But I am still the happiest when I see you._

_ Would it be because of the warmth in your eyes when you look at me? How each time I think about your smile another flower blossoms in my heart. It is a garden, a beautiful and bursting garden! _

_ Or would it be because of how warm your hand feels when you hold my hand tightly? Whatever it is, it does not matter. I miss you. As long as I can be with you, I will be happy._

_From Kim Donghyuk_

His love was like a moment under the sun, like a lungful of blooming flowers, the way dandelions scattered under whispers of sweet promises. His love was like reading books together on a park bench, petals falling like snow as the breeze swept through, glancing over to see him lost in the poem, lost in the beautiful world built with prose and ink, and then falling for him all over again. That was the magic, and he never got tired of it. His love was like sleep on eyelids, like the lingering smell of rain, like the birds that sang from the trees, like the moonlight under which the two lovers entangled their bodies together as closely as they could.

_To Kim Donghyuk,_

_ Donghyuk, I am happy to hear that you are doing well. I am also doing quite well myself. I am still struggling to get used to all the work that I have to do for the company. But I occasionally write a few reviews for literary magazines, write poems or plays here and there. Hanbin would undoubtedly be happy to hear that. Though, at the end of the day, my thoughts always come back to you to find solace. _

_ Then I think, and realise how much I miss you. I visit Gyeongseong when I feel that way. But really, what is the point? The moment I turn back after we part ways, I find myself already longing for you. As silly as it sounds, I almost feel like I am not alive when I am not around you. Donghyuk, what should I do with all my feelings for you?_

"Donghyuk-hyung." Donghyuk perked at the sound of his brother's voice. His head poked through the door of the room. "Father wants to talk to you."

"Oh, really?"

Jaehyuk nodded, and Donghyuk gave one more glance to the letter, Junhwe's charming handwriting, before following him into the living room.

"This family is far wealthier than any of the families that wanted you to marry their sons."

"Still," Donghyuk frowned at his mother. "I don't want to do it."

From the corner of the living room, Donghyuk's siblings watched in silence. Such conversations were usual in the household, but always so uncomfortable.

"Are you seeing someone by any chance?"

Unable to meet her gaze, Donghyuk looked down to his hands. "No. I am not."

His mother sighed in exasperation. "Then why is it that you keep turning down these offers from perfectly nice and wealthy families?"

"Enough." Donghyuk's father coughed, taking a long sip of tea to clear his throat before looking at his eldest son. "Donghyuk-ah. Thank you for being the breadwinner of the family and even putting your brother and sister through school in place of your incompetent father."

"Father, please don't say that."

"I am ashamed to ask you this, but could you please do me a favour one last time?" He then turned to Donghyuk's mother. "Tell him."

"If you marry him, his family will fully support Jaemin and Jaehyuk to live and study in the United States. They will even support me and your father financially. That is simply impossible with your meagre savings, but his family will do that all for us." Donghyuk's mouth felt dry. He felt like screaming, but he did not what he could say or do. His mother continued talking, but Donghyuk felt like he was no longer in his own body. "You need to help Jaemin and Jaehyuk so that they can have a bright future. Do you understand that, Donghyuk?"

Numb, Donghyuk nodded and silently returned to his room without giving an answer to his parents. His eyes pricked with tears as he saw Junhwe's letter again, still opened, laying on the table.

"Sir, please also take a look at these documents when you are done reviewing those contracts."

Junhwe looked up to see Seunghoon standing across the desk with another pile of paper in his hands. "There is more?"

"Yes," Seunghoon answered, maybe too enthusiastically. "Mr Goo owns many properties, you know. I do envy you, sir. From land and other assets, you will have a lot to manage."

Junhwe exhaled frustratedly, dropping the contract he was in the middle of reading onto the desk loudly. Seunghoon grimaced. He was empathetic to how tiresome and draining running the company was to the young boss, who seemed like he bore no real interest in the matters. Suddenly, the phone rang and Seunghoon rushed forward to pick it up. Junhwe got there first.

"Yes. Goo Junhwe speaking." The assistant watched curiously as Junhwe's expression quickly changed to one of concern. "Where are you now? I'll be right there. Please wait for me."

Junhwe dashed all the way to Mokpo Station to find Donghyuk sitting on the bench overlooking the railroad, waiting. Panting, sweating, but mostly worried, Junhwe quickly ran up to the singer, who stood up immediately at the sight of him.

"Donghyuk, did something happen? What brings you here?"

Without saying anything, Donghyuk embraced Junhwe tightly, burying his face into Junhwe's shoulder. Though Junhwe naturally brought his arms around the smaller male, it did not ease any of the writer's confusion. Donghyuk rarely came down to Mokpo.

"You wrote in your letter that you miss me. That is why I am here."

By late afternoon, the sun started to slowly fall from the sky, setting an orange glow across the sea of calm waves. Along the beach, Junhwe and Donghyuk walked with their hands entwined between them, admiring the beautiful view.

Junhwe looked down at the smaller male, whose skin was kissed with gold. "You should have just asked me to visit you if you have to go back right away."

"You told me your father scolds you every time you visit Gyeongseong, saying that the president of the company is slacking off to hang out in Gyeongseong. That is why I came this time. I didn't want you to get scolded. You have to be a good son."

Junhwe did not answer, only squeezing Donghyuk's hand tighter. But suddenly Donghyuk stopped walking.

"Hold me tight," Donghyuk said, softly. It should have sounded like an imperative; he would have liked if the words were strong and demanding, a sense of control he could finally grasp and exert. But it came out like a plead, which was what it was.

The smile on Junhwe's face froze as he halted, turning around slowly. The breeze licked Donghyuk's delicate front bangs as he stared on with wide eyes, awaiting Junhwe's response in desperation.

"What do you mean?"

"Beg me not to leave," Donghyuk insisted. "_Don't leave me_. Hold me tight and don't let me go."

"There must be something going on," Junhwe answered, confused.

Just as he walked forward, Donghyuk took a step back with watery eyes, looking down to the pale sand.

"You can't do it. I bet you can't." Through his tears, the singer smiled at Junhwe. "You are too much of a good person. You are a good son."

"Donghyuk-"

"A family wants me to marry their son. Apparently they are very rich. They are willing to support my siblings financially so that they can study and live abroad. They are even offering to take care of my family's living expenses as well. That's how much they want me." Donghyuk's chuckle was sad and Junhwe only watched as his heart tore into pieces inside him. "Had I told you that I was struggling, that I needed money, you would have done everything you could to help me. And then with your money in my hands, I would have felt disgusted and ashamed with myself."

It wasn't like Donghyuk expected Junhwe to answer him. As much as he wanted it, as much as it was everything he hoped for, he knew that Junhwe would not leave his family for him. And it wasn't fair for Junhwe to have to choose like this. He didn't want Junhwe to have to choose. But still, Donghyuk just wanted to hear it. If he could hang on to one memory from now on, he wanted it to be Junhwe saying the words he wished he would say.

"Please say it. _Forget about your parents and siblings. Forget about everything. Let's just run away somewhere far. Let's be together. You're all I want. _Just say it, please."

Junhwe's eyes filled with tears, as he helplessly watched the smaller male beg.

"Come on, just say it once." Donghyuk stepped towards Junhwe, gripping both of the writer's arms in despair. "Hold me like this, and say it. _Don't go. I love you and I cannot live without you. So just forget about what is on your mind. Don't leave me_. Say that, please."

Junhwe remained silent.

"Please," Donghyuk begged one last time. And when Junhwe did not answer, his entire being numbed with pain, the singer's hands dropped from his arms, the last whisper of hope fading from his face.

At the beach, the orange sun finally sank beneath the horizon, the line where heaven touched earth, with the sound of Donghyuk crying heartbrokenly into Junhwe's chest.

Junhwe met Jinhwan on the path outside their home. It seemed as though he had been waiting for Junhwe to arrive. "Father would like to see you."

"I will go and see him in a bit. I want to be alone for a few minutes."

"Are you going to write all night again?" Jinhwan interrogated coldly. "Father has been waiting for a while."

The small male walked off; his instructions irrefutable. Junhwe sighed and headed to his father's office.

"I got a call from your office earlier in the day. They said there was a document that needed to get approved, but you stepped out and were not coming back. They asked me if you were home."

"I am sorry," Junhwe responded, his head bowed.

"You have been visiting Gyeongseong very often in the past few months and I thought it was very strange. Are you hanging out with those punks again to get back into literature? If that is true, then you are not allowed to visit Gyeongseong again!"

In a quiet and emotionless voice Junhwe answered, "I do not need to visit Gyeongseong anymore."

"What?"

"Good night, father." Junhwe stood up and bowed deeply, turning around to leave his father in the office, stunned and speechless.

_To Goo Youngjun,_

_ This heart of mine is burning. This heart of mine is suffocating. My eyes are welling up with tears, and I am choked with sorrow. Why does your letter bring me to tears? _

_ But even then, what can I do? I am alone, all alone. I shall wish you the best and wait for you up above. _

_From Kim Donghyuk_

Donghyuk stepped into the pretty Western-style café. Dainty green vines hung from the ceiling, complimenting the pale colours of the wooden furnishings and glossy porcelain tableware. As Donghyuk looked around blankly, a well-dressed man sitting alone at a table stood up, a bright and eager smile on his face as his eyes found Donghyuk.

Promptly shaking out of his trance, the man bowed. He had seen pictures of the singer on newspapers and billboards - he'd even been to a concert - but Donghyuk's beauty was so much more mesmerising up close. Jiwon gestured encouragingly to the empty seat at the table, now bathed in warm sunlight.

Donghyuk gripped tighter on his bag and stepped forward.

"Sir, are you feeling okay?" Seunghoon asked. "You look unwell."

"No, I am fine. You may proceed with this." Without looking up, Junhwe scratched his name on the contract and handed it to the assistant, easily moving to scrutinise the next document underneath it.

Seunghoon accepted the file, a bit too surprised and concerned by Junhwe's sudden focus to be impressed by the productivity. "Yes, sir."

"I will visit again." Jiwon bowed politely as he stepped out of Donghyuk's house. Donghyuk's family, all dressed in their best clothes and bearing bright smiles, promptly bowed in return.

Especially Donghyuk's mother. She looked happier than she had been in months. This man was nice and charming, but most importantly he was wealthy, and he wanted to be with Donghyuk. "Please do." Her eyes narrowed at her son, who stood blankly with his hands folded together in front of him. "Why are you just standing there? You should walk him to the main road."

"Okay. Let's go."

Jiwon perked at Donghyuk's voice, cheerfully waving behind him as he followed the singer up the path. "I will be off, then. See you later."

It had rained during the short hour he spent at Donghyuk's home, so the path was wet and slightly muddy. Small stones grinding and leaves squelching under their footsteps.

Jiwon glanced at Donghyuk, who stared ahead passively. Jiwon carefully put his hand over Donghyuk's, but the smaller male did not soften under his touch. Instead, Donghyuk pulled his hand away in discomfort.

"I- I am sorry," Donghyuk stuttered, eyes faltering as they met Jiwon's. "I am not quite ready for this yet."

"So, you are still not ready."

"I am sorry."

Jiwon sighed. "Well, my feelings are a little hurt. But what can I do? Nothing, really. Since I like you, I should be more patient." At the end of the path, he turned to the smaller male. Despite everything, his eyes were still kind. "Get home safely, Donghyuk."

"Have a safe journey home." Donghyuk bowed, formally.

_… not something that gets healed._

Exhaling in frustration, Junhwe balled the sheet of paper, black ink still glistening, and threw it into the trash can which overflowed with similar bunches of discarded prose. He poured himself another glass of whiskey, and drained the alcohol at once, before starting a new page.

Suddenly, Junhwe's father barged into the room. Junhwe put down his pen and stood up at the unexpected intrusion. A bunch of magazines landed with a thud on his desk, his secret now exposed right in front of him.

"Jinhwan told me that you have been coming straight here after work every day. He said that all you have been doing for a whole month is drinking and writing all night, without eating or sleeping. I made it clear to you that you must stay away from writing, but you sent your writing to a literary magazine. Not even just one, but many pieces. Did you think that I would never find out if you just used your pen name, Youngjun? Why must you care about the theatrical reform movement in Joseon? Are you doing this to rebel against me because I told you to never visit Gyeongseong again?"

Junhwe sighed. It sounded tired, and hollow, coming from a person who was nothing more than a shell. "I have done everything you wanted me to do, father."

"What?"

"I got married because you wanted me to, and I went to agricultural school because you said I would have to manage all the land that our family owns. Now, here I am working at the company for that is what you wanted me to do. So, tell me. How is it exactly that I rebel against you, father?"

"Junhwe, how dare you! How could you say such a thing to your father?"

"That is right. You are my father. Which means I will be your son until the day I die." Junhwe's voice trembled but was calm and strong. "But your son is human; I am a human, father. I am a human being with my own thoughts and free will."

"Did you just raise your voice at me?!"

"Yes!" Junhwe answered. "I did raise my voice at you, father. I am begging you to let me breathe a little."

The old man blinked, pupils wide and dark with bewilderment. "What did you just say to me?"

"Other people are sacrificing their lives for Joseon's independence, but I am here living like a coward as per your wish. For I am so utterly ashamed of myself, I want to confess my mortification through my writing." Junhwe stamped his clenched fist into the table in fury. "At least through my writing, I want to do something. Scribbling a few words on pieces of paper," the writer picked up the pages on his desk, scrunching them tightly in his hand, before throwing them remissly behind him, "helps me breathe a little. But even that, you are telling me to quit. So I must ask you."

Junhwe stared right into his father's shaking eyes.

"Father, do you want me to live or do you want me to die?"

It should have felt like a huge weight lifting off his chest, but even though he had said the words he wanted to say for so long, the pain and agony still tortured him. If anything, his chest felt heavier than before.

The old man's eyes, red with hot tears, faltered. "You are drunk."

And with that, those simple dismissive words, he left the study. Junhwe closed his eyes and cried, gripping onto the edge of the table.

_Pain is not something that gets healed. We only get used to it as time passes. _

_ Pain always has a place, settled in our hearts._

"Goo Junhwe speaking. Who is this?" Silence. "Please, speak."

In a telephone booth in downtown Gyeongseong, Donghyuk gripped tightly onto the phone, tears falling from his eyes as he covered his mouth, silencing his anguish.

"If you have nothing to say, then I will hang up."

Donghyuk's chest ached at the sound of Junhwe's voice. He wondered if this was what death felt like. This must hurt more than death.

It seemed as if though Junhwe was about to hang up, when suddenly he spoke again. "Donghyuk…? It is you, right?"

The singer hung up, bursting into tears.

"He did not come home last night?" Junhwe's father repeated incredulously, spoon in mid-air as he stared at Jinhwan.

Jinhwan nodded, keeping his head bowed. He was sorry to be disturbing his father while eating breakfast. He did not mean to cause any concern for the ageing man, but he had been asked and he could not lie. "The study was empty all night, so I thought he was still at his office. I checked again a while ago, and it was still empty."

"Could he not have come at dawn and left early in the morning?"

"There were no traces of him being there."

Infuriated, Junhwe's father set his spoon on the table.

"I think it was at Danseongsa. I was deeply moved after watching your performance. I told our company's president that we had to sign a recording contract with you."

Donghyuk set down his cup of tea gently, returning a polite smile to the agent. When he was contacted by a representative of Gobe Records last week, he did not expect such an offer to follow. "Thank you."

"For the down payment, as per the contract, we are thinking of paying about 700 won."

"That is enough to pay for Jaemin's study abroad to the United States," Donghyuk muttered to himself. How splendid!

"Sorry?"

The singer perked. "Oh! It's nothing. I will sign the contract."

"Thank you. The recording will take place in our company in Osaka."

"By the way, when do you think you can pay me?"

The agent cut into his slice of strawberry cake. "As soon as the recording is done, we will pay you."

Donghyuk smiled. "Okay."

It was like something out of a dream, it had to be, colour fading around the edges until the only thing clear and lucid was Junhwe, standing at the end of the path to his home, illuminated by the soft light of the lamppost. He turned suddenly, and Donghyuk's heart stammered.

Junhwe quickly walked towards the singer, and then pulled him into a firm hug.

The leaves rustled; the breeze raw against their skin. Was the world not cruel? Were the winds not cold? But Junhwe's warmth. Donghyuk felt safe inside Junhwe's warmth.

"Don't go anywhere. Stay by my side. You're all I want. I don't think I can live without you, Donghyuk."

Donghyuk had tears in his eyes; he was speechless.

"I'm going to leave for Tokyo. Come with me. Let's be together."

So, if the birds were watching, they would have seen Donghyuk wrap his arms tightly around Junhwe, as if afraid he would leave any moment. And they would have seen Junhwe press his lips on the smaller male's forehead, as a tear slid from his eye.

"Can't you stay a bit longer?" Donghyuk pouted as the whistle of the oncoming tram could be heard from the distance.

"I must go right now." Junhwe grimaced, instantly lifting Donghyuk's chin gently when he looked down in sadness. "We can soon be together for a long time, so be patient."

"Okay."

Junhwe sighed wistfully, never tired of seeing Donghyuk's pretty smile. "It would have been nice to leave for Tokyo together."

"I have some matters to take care of here first."

"If this is about your sibling's school expenses-"

"No," Donghyuk said firmly. "I don't want your money. I only want your love." The taller male smiled at Donghyuk's cheesy answer. "Wait for me in Tokyo. Once I arrive there, should I meet you in that boarding house?"

Then the writer grinned widely, almost childishly, which made the smaller male swoon. "Yes. And earn lots of money, Donghyuk. I am absolutely stone-broke."

Donghyuk giggled. "Go on."

And until the moment the train left the station, the lovers held tightly onto the hands of the other, as if it could be their last time.

Darkness had befallen by the time Junhwe arrived home, but from inside his yard there emanated an orange light from a fire. His father and Jinhwan stood, watching.

As Junhwe stepped closer he realised, to his horror, that the pile was made of his books and scripts. The delicate pages turning into ash before his very eyes.

With the fire lighting his sharp eyes, his father turned to him in anger. "Come with me."

Jinhwan offered a pensive, yet impassive, look as Junhwe sighed and followed into his father's office.

Donghyuk's letters scattered in the air and fell around him, like broken leaves. Junhwe kept his eyes on the ground.

"Was he the reason why you have been going to Gyeongseong all along? For a vulgar whore who sings in front of unknown men?"

"He is precious to me," Junhwe answered, eyes not meeting those of the old man.

"Junhwe, how dare you?!" With a heavy sigh, his father continued talking, almost in reassurance to himself. "Sure. It is not uncommon for a man to briefly lay his eyes on another. Right, that could happen."

"It was not for a brief moment." It was at Junhwe's confident retort that brought an expression of disgust on the old man's face. But Junhwe maintained an unwavering stare and steady voice. "For a long time, I tried to forget him. But it was to no avail."

"So?!" His father roared. "_What_ are you going to do?"

"I will leave with him. And I will never return."

"What is that man to you that you would forego your filial piety?"

"I am willing to give up filial piety or anything else if I can just be with him."

"That fox has completely and utterly bewitched you. Listen to me carefully, Junhwe. Without my money, you will lose both that man and your love for literature. You have lived in abundance all of your life. How long will you be able to withstand poverty? How long will that man stay beside you when you have no money?"

Junhwe's eyes were red with prickling tears as he responded, "If he abandons me for that reason, that, too, is my fate."

"You damned imbecile!" the old man vociferated, attempting to stand up only to collapse back onto the ground, dizzy with anger. "Leave. I don't even want to look at you, so get right out of my sight!"

Junhwe bowed deeply, exiting his father's office to find Jinhwan standing by the corridor, face tight

"All that I can say to you is that I am terribly sorry. Please. Whatever you do, do not forgive me."

_ "Jinhwan, are you there?"_

"Yes, father," Jinhwan answered obediently.

_ "Burn those outrageous letters as well. This instant!"_

Junhwe bowed to his husband and continued down the corridor without turning back.

"It is not a surprise," Jiwon acknowledged easily, after Donghyuk finished speaking. His face glowed under the sunlight streaming from the window, and Donghyuk remembered when he met Jiwon for the first time in this café, although being friendly and active, his small eyes disappearing when he smiled, there was something he could not get over. No matter how hard he tried.

It was that this man was not Junhwe.

"I don't know what to say to you." Donghyuk looked down to his hands.

Jiwon chuckled, and Donghyuk felt worse. "Don’t be sorry. I understand. The heart is stubborn. You cannot just change it with determination. I'm just worried about you. Our engagement announcement has already been announced on the newspapers. It may not affect me too much. But you are a well-renowned singer compared to me."

"It is my burden to take. So it cannot be helped. Thank you for your concern."

"If you are truly thankful, can you do me a favour?"

Donghyuk perked, nodding eagerly.

"If you ever think of me from time to time, please wish that I will meet someone better than you and live happily every after. Please wish that for me."

The singer smiled, his cheeks blushing red. "Okay, I will do that."

Though, it was true that despite all of this, Jiwon was still very fond of Donghyuk. "You are finally smiling."

Thick silence suffocated the living room. Donghyuk's siblings sat silently in the corner, their backs straight and eyes still, not daring to blink.

Donghyuk's mother sighed, in total disappointment. "Where could you possibly find another man like him ever again?"

"I do not love him. I could not love him." Donghyuk bit his lip, as his parents only stared back with the same despairing expressions. He tried brightening his tone. "I have signed a contract with a Japanese recording company. I will receive my payment once the recording ends. With that money, Jaemin can study abroad."

"And Jaehyuk? What about him?"

Donghyuk's eyes fell to his younger brother. "Jaehyuk…. Jaehyuk-ah, I will get money for you no matter what. So please continue preparing for study abroad."

The boy nodded, disheartened.

The maid set down two cups of hot tea, one for her master and the other for Donghyuk, before leaving the room.

Briefly lost in his own world as his eyes roamed over the ornate ceiling and lavish decorations inside the mansion, Donghyuk reeled himself together and straightened in his seat, beaming at the man sitting across him. "I am truly grateful. My younger brother wanted to express his gratitude as well."

"That is not necessary. From what I hear, your family is barely getting by. I have often supported poor but talented artists. Hearing how your brother is also studying music, makes me want to be of help. Someone as talented as you, Mr Kim, should not have to spend time worrying about money."

Choi Hansuk was one of the richest men in Gyeongseong. When he reached out to Donghyuk all of a sudden, the singer had no idea what to expect. Now, hearing it from the man himself, Donghyuk felt assured. Now, there was an answer to Jaehyuk's expenses. It was like the dark storm cloud hanging above Donghyuk's head had finally scattered, leaving a gap for sunlight to shine through.

"It is such an honour. There is really not enough words to express how thankful we are."

"You are too humble, Mr Kim. Tell your brother this: I wish for him to become a great artist who shines the light of Joseon all around the world."

Donghyuk grinned. "I will tell him that for sure."

"The same goes for you as well, Mr Kim."

"By ourselves, sir?" Seunghoon echoed in disbelief on behalf of his colleagues, as they faced their young boss at his desk.

Junhwe smiled in assurance. "I have taken care of most of the work, and it won't be for too long."

"Even though you have signed most of the documents, it will be impossible for us to run the company without you," Chanhyuk commented, completely taken aback by what Junhwe had just told them.

"It will only be for a while. My father will give out orders soon. Please look after the company until then."

Reluctantly, the employees nodded. "Yes, sir."

Classes had finished for the day, and Jaehyuk looked forward to going home. He was descending the front steps of the school's main gate, when the chatter of a group of boys piqued his attention.

_ "Kim Donghyuk? Did he really?"_

_ "That is just what I heard. In the middle of the night, he exited Choi Hansuk's gate discreetly and glanced around."_

_ "There are more than enough witnesses who saw him secretly leave his house. My sister said that Kim Donghyuk was seeing a man from a wealthy family as well as Choi Hansuk. The man called him a whore, slapped him in the face. He told him to just go and be Choi Hansuk's whore."_

_ "I heard that Choi Hansuk gave him 700 won. That must be the money for Kim Donghyuk selling his body to him."_

_ "Ah… You're right."_

"Say that again," Jaehyuk yelled suddenly, storming towards the boys on the steps. "Say that again, you bastards!" His fist blindly collided with one their faces. Shouts filled the air as a violent fight broke out.

"Jaehyuk, stop. Jaehyuk-ah."

"Let me go!"

With a loud bang, the door of Donghyuk's room flew open and the younger boy stormed inside, puffing with anger. Jaemin stood nervously behind him.

Donghyuk looked up from his book, eyes instantly narrowing around the wounds on his younger brother's face. "Jaehyuk-ah, what happened to your face?"

"The 700 won for my studies. Why did Mr Choi give you such a large payment?"

"I told you. He wishes for you to become a great artist-"

"I want the truth and not some stupid lie!" Jaehyuk yelled.

The singer stared at his brother in confusion. "Jaehyuk…"

"At his house, were you alone with him?"

Jaemin turned to Jaehyuk in horror but did not say anything. Donghyuk nodded. "Yes, it was just us two."

"Just the two of you? What did you do then?"

"I really have no idea what you are trying to say, Jaehyuk."

Jaemin stepped forward, the worry spilling through her tone. "We have been trying not to tell you, but rumours have spread all across Gyeongseong."

"What rumours?"

"That you and Mr Choi are in a relationship. And that your fiancé called off the wedding once he found out. They are also saying that Mr Choi paid for Jaehyuk's tuition, in return for your secret affair."

Donghyuk barely managed to form a thought. "What?"

"Tell me it is not true," Jaehyuk demanded angrily.

"Jaemin…" Donghyuk looked to his younger sister for support, but her expression told all. Donghyuk was suddenly in disbelief and defeat.

"It's untrue, isn't it?" Jaemin probed, gently but urgently.

"Jaemin… Jaehyuk-ah. How could you… How could you even think that of me?" Donghyuk pushed past his siblings at the door and ran out into the garden, bursting into despairing tears.

"Please, Donghyuk-hyung," Jaehyuk called after his older brother, voice full of guilt. "I just wanted to confirm that it was a lie."

His siblings were right. The gossip had spread through town like wildfire, and it was simply impossible to ignore.

"I am afraid we cannot have you perform at the moment," the director at the broadcasting station grimaced to Donghyuk. "The rumours are too ghastly."

As he walked through downtown to the tram station, dirty glares stalked his back and people spoke in loud, uninhibited voices.

_ "Does he love money that much?"_

_ "Is he not Kim Donghyuk?"_

_ "Was money really that important to him?"_

_ "Absolutely disgusting."_

_ "What an embarrassment. I don't want to listen to his music anymore."_

Donghyuk watched, defeatedly, as posters for his next concert were recklessly torn down from the buildings.

Even as Donghyuk was escorted roughly by two Japanese soldiers through the doors of the government building, all he could think about was his parents and siblings, how worried they must have been. Up until then the day had been happening as usual, Donghyuk reading poetry in the garden, when abruptly a group of men in uniform showed up to their home.

Donghyuk had no idea what this was about, either.

"Come in."

The soldiers, who had probably made bruises on his arms, suddenly dispersed, leaving Donghyuk alone in front of an office. He stepped inside cautiously.

Waiting inside was a short, balding man. Donghyuk recognised him as the minister of propaganda. "Are you Kim Donghyuk?" he asked, extending his hand.

Donghyuk looked down, and then looked back up without offering his own hand. "That is right."

"I heard you studied in Japan. Have you forgotten how to speak the language?"

The singer held his chin high. "I heard that you are also from Joseon," he responded, appearing unfazed despite how rapidly his heart pounded.

The man's face dropped and there was a deadly silence in the room. Quickly, the smile returned to his face. "The rumours are right about you being bold." The man touched Donghyuk's chin, then moved to stroke his cheek. "I find that… even more charming."

In disgust, Donghyuk pushed the man away, only for the same hand to fall harshly on his cheek. The slap resounded through the room.

"You are a whore who sells himself for money. So do not act like you are so honourable."

Donghyuk clutched his flaming cheek, silent.

"I heard that things are tough. You are a singer who cannot perform anywhere. That is why I called you. I am giving you a chance to sing on a magnificent stage."

"This…" Donghyuk's eyes narrowed as he read the paper contract forced into his face.

"That is right. I am offering you a position at the government as a guest performer. Your contract will begin with you singing at the banquet hosted by the office. Then you will attend other shows the office holds to celebrate Japan's prosperity. With your singing, enlighten the foolish Joseon people. Show them the spirit of the empire."

How horrid. He would do no such thing, no matter how much money he needed. Donghyuk brought the paper down, to reveal steely eyes hidden behind a fake smile. "I have a contract with a Japanese recording company. I must go to Osaka to record, so I cannot accept the proposal. Excuse me, then." He turned to leave.

"House number 1-73, Seodaemun district, Gyeongseong. I wonder how your parents are doing. Younger sister Kim Jaemin, younger brother Kim Jaehyuk. Both are planning to study abroad in the United States. That means they are still here in Joseon at the moment."

The singer quickly spun around in horror.

The man chuckled at such a response. As he had wanted. "I guess I finally got through to you. Ah. We should meet up for a drink when you get back." He leaned close to Donghyuk, breath too close to the singer's ear. "Someone private, of course." With bellowing laughter, he watched as tears pricked Donghyuk's eyes. "I wish you the best on your recording in Japan, Kim Donghyuk."

No one was able to enjoy dinner. The rice stuck hard to their throats and the vegetables were tasteless. What they chewed on was the topic they had avoided for a week.

Donghyuk's father picked up a pickled lotus root, eye twitching uncomfortably as he sneaked a glance at his eldest son. "Donghyuk-ah. It must be tough to not be able to perform. The position of guest performer for the government. Why don't you accept that role? You will even be paid for your services."

"If you agree to take the job, how much will they pay you?" Donghyuk's mother added, immediately. Evidently, the question had been on her mind for a while. "The government will probably pay you more than the broadcasting companies, right?"

Donghyuk slowed and then stopped chewing completely as he looked up at his parents, appetite lost.

"Mother." Jaehyuk slammed his bowl on the table. Everyone was surprised by the youngest's outburst. "This is absolutely wrong. A Korean should not sing for that office."

"Why? He cannot earn money elsewhere because of the rumours, so why not accept this job?"

"Mother!"

"Don't you dare raise your voice! Who pays for your tuition! Who pays for the food that you are eating right now?"

Jaehyuk turned to his brother. "Donghyuk-hyung. No matter how important singing is to you, do not ever stoop that low."

"I agree with Jaehyuk," Jaemin said, putting her hand supportively on Donghyuk's knee. "Don't accept the job."

The older woman's weary eyes darted from her children, to her husband who remained silent. "Fine!" she cried in exasperation, dropping her bowl and chopsticks on the table. "Don't take it then. Starting from tomorrow, we will all just starve instead!"

Donghyuk stood up. "I should pack since I am leaving tomorrow morning," he said, in a quiet voice before turning to leave.

"You will accept the job before you go, right?"

"Mother!"

"There is no other choice! We will all starve to death if he does not!"

"Jaehyuk. That is enough."

When everything inevitably became too much, Donghyuk tried to find a little moment of peace in poetry. With poetry, he could escape to another world, even briefly. With every line he read, he felt closer to Junhwe, who was a sea apart and too far away from him.

Donghyuk slowly set down his book at the sound of Jaemin stepping into the garden. "Next Sunday in the afternoon, do I meet you at Gobe Records in Osaka?"

Donghyuk forced a smile on his face for his younger sister. "Do not be late since I cannot record without your piano accompaniment."

"Why don't you leave for Osaka with me next week? Why are you leaving so early?"

"There is someone I need to meet first."

"I see." Jaemin nodded. "A letter came for you a while back. I left it on your desk in your room."

_To Kim Donghyuk,_

_ I only heard about the rumours about you after I arrived in Tokyo. Those horrible rumours about you only seem like nonsense to me. The only words I believe in are yours. The only truth I know is yours. Every time I think about how lonely and tormented you must be, I am swept with regret. I should have brought you with me. I should not have left you alone there. Hurry to me, Donghyuk. Be the effervescent person you were when we first met. Be the person who always smiled brightly, and hurry to me. I miss you._

Junhwe's letter became stained with Donghyuk's tears, the black ink bleeding down the page. Clutching the letter close to his chest, Donghyuk cried, his throat choked with overwhelming silence and pain.

**TOKYO**

_The end…_

Junhwe set down his pen just as he heard a knock on his door. "Mr Goo? Someone is here to see you." Was it Donghyuk? Then he would have arrived quicker than Junhwe expected, not that Junhwe minded. It was evident how much he missed the singer since they parted, because his heart lifted as he pulled back the door.

But it was not Donghyuk. It was Jinhwan.

Junhwe's face dropped, as sank his heart, and in return Jinhwan looked up at Junhwe inscrutably. He wore a light purple hanbok, hair combed impeccably.

"Come in." Junhwe stepped back into the room.

There was a feeling of shame the arose inside Junhwe as he sat on the tatami across his husband, steam leaving the tea between them. Jinhwan never inspired Junhwe's fear nor revulsion, merely a feeling of disinterest. But as the small male glanced around the room, sharp, discerning eyes finally resting back on the writer, Junhwe found it difficult to maintain his gaze.

"Is this the life you came here to pursue?" Jinhwan asked, gratingly. Junhwe had never heard Jinhwan so much as raise the tone of his voice before. "Come back to Joseon."

"I have no intentions to."

"Your father has stopped eating altogether and waits for your letter that does not come. He is determined to pick up his bowl again only when you return to Joseon to run the company like he wants you to. Even if you do not write, there are others who can write. But no one else can run the company except you."

Junhwe looked down to his hands. "That is none of my business anymore."

"Will you only return to Joseon after your father passes away? Does this seem like a joke to you? You know your father as well as I do. So this is nothing you can just brush off. I take it that you understand what I am saying, and you will promptly come back home." With that, as if the conversation had finished, Jinhwan stood up. He had said all he had come to say, and the rest was up to Junhwe.

"Do not get your hopes up," Junhwe said, with Jinhwan's back facing him. "It will only be in vain."

There was a fierceness in the way Jinhwan turned around, the line of his lip tight as he looked down at his husband. "I married you without even meeting you. Throughout my life in this family, I have never desired your heart. Even though your heart was somewhere else, I believed that it was my duty to love and support you no matter what. For the first and last time, I urge you to reconsider your actions. I will not ask you to be a husband for me. However, please. Do not forget your duties as a son."

Jinhwan bowed deeply, leaving Junhwe alone in the room.

Even from outside the studio building, Junhwe could hear his friends bickering loudly and unapologetically. Even though the exterior of the building had changed, from white to dark ash paint, the people had not changed. Not one bit.

"What? _The One and Only_? Not_ Goodbye Road_?" Yunhyeong exclaimed and, in true actor fashion, employed exaggerated hand gestures to express his disbelief. "Are we really going with _The One and Only_?"

"Yes," Hanbin answered, not looking up from his scripts. "I thought I told you."

"Are you serious? When?"

At the sound of Junhwe's footsteps drawing closer, both turned around. Yunhyeong perked immediately. "Oh! Junhwe!"

"You have been confined at home writing, so what brings you here now?" Hanbin asked. He had come back to Tokyo after spending a few years abroad in the United States. In his letters, he frequently talked about missing his family, and home-cooked food. But Junhwe believed it had something to do with a certain actor, moreover.

"I just wanted to see the studio."

"How is the scriptwriting coming along?" Yunhyeong hopped off the stage, embracing Junhwe around the shoulder.

"Somewhat okay."

"Well, I am surely curious. How good will your plays be? Better than Hanbin's, I think."

"He wrote four scripts already. He is supposedly writing his fifth, but he has never let me read any of them."

"Seriously? That is too harsh. When will you show it to us then?"

Junhwe smiled. "Soon."

Their conversation was interrupted by students suddenly walking into the studio, some absorbedly reciting lines to themselves. "Rehearsals are about to start," Yunhyeong explained. "Why don't you stay and watch? Give us your verdict."

"I shouldn't be here. I should just get going."

"Come on. Stay and watch the rehearsal. You said you have been curious about it." Though when the writer said nothing, Hanbin frowned. He had certainly adopted some mannerisms from spending so much time around Yunhyeong. "Gosh. You are so stubborn, Junhwe-ya. Then, I will stop by your place later. Let us have dinner together."

"Okay."

Junhwe glanced around the studio contemplatively for the last time, before quietly leaving as rehearsal commenced. On the path home he met up with Donghyuk, who stood pensively at the end under the shelter of a tall tree, clutching onto his suitcase.

"Donghyuk, I have to return to Joseon. I cannot forsake my father like this. However, I cannot go back to Joseon. In Joseon, I can neither write nor see you."

"Then we are both in the same boat. We are both faced with a dilemma. The government wants to hire me as their singer. If I return upon recording my album here and become their singer, my soul will die. But if I choose not to return, my family will die."

They used to walk through this forest together, when they were both students and still naïve about a lot of things about the world. The trees stood strongly, and the flowers opened brightly. Their surroundings looked very much like it did in their memories, and perhaps it was sad that as they both sat on this bench they wished, in vain, they could go back to those days.

"Do you remember the day we first met?" Donghyuk asked.

"I was reading a book by Arishima Takeo and you struck a conversation with me."

The singer smiled at the memory. "Could it be because of how we first met? Whenever you crossed my mind, I was reminded of Arishima Takeo as well. His books… and his death. Now, I think I can understand why he made a choice like that. You see, he must have wanted to rest at a place where he no longer has to try so hard and where there is no more parting from what he loves, the person he loves. He must have wanted to be at peace." Donghyuk glanced at Junhwe, and then back down to his hands, tightly wringing the edge of his shirt. "I… I want to get some rest now, Junhwe. I am really exhausted now. But I cannot do that, for I fear I might end up missing you too much."

"If that is the reason, then you can rest," Junhwe answered, calmly and understandingly. "I used to think that he ran away from life, that what he did was cowardly, but I no longer think so. He made that choice so he could live. In order not to lose himself, he chose death. That is all. For the first and last time in my life, I want to live as who I am. Even if that means death."

Donghyuk's eyes had filled with tears. Junhwe wiped them softly.

"So you can rest too. By my side."

It had been a few years since Hanbin last visited this hostel, and it was amusing to him that Junhwe chose to stay in the same room as when he studied in Tokyo.

Junhwe carried a lot of sentimentality, Hanbin observed. Despite his cool and calm exterior, Junhwe wore his heart very much on his sleeve. Because of this, Hanbin always knew Junhwe was capable of being a great writer.

"Junhwe, the rehearsal ran very late…" Hanbin opened the door, only to find no one inside the dark room. "Where did he go?"

Hanbin stepped inside, noticing that everything was empty, apart from a small note sitting on the desk, which looked sad without Junhwe's usual messy pile of books.

_ Come to Osaka in five days. The address is as follows._

"Why did he go to Osaka all of a sudden?" Hanbin pondered aloud.

**OSAKA**

_Every cage in my head awaits your memory._

Coincidental or not, the interior of their hostel room in Osaka looked akin to Junhwe's in Tokyo. The difference was that this room opened to a small bonsai garden, and if they left the screen doors open sunlight would fill the room, heat crashing like waves, wrapping everything in a cast of gold.

_ You, who taught me tenderness and longing. You, who taught me that to bear pain and hurt is not the same as being weak._

And so they loved each other, under the silver moonlight. Donghyuk cried because he loved Junhwe so much, and Junhwe kissed away Donghyuk's tears one by one. Tears that tasted like sorrow and yearning, settling deep inside his burning heart.

_ When we all come to our lonely ends and these beautiful moments disappear with the cold winds,_

Donghyuk's cheerful laughter resonated through the endless beach as Junhwe chased him into the undulating waves, knees deep in frothy water. Just as Donghyuk looked like he was about to slip, Junhwe caught him and held him tight against his chest, both standing still as they watched the red sun set behind the sea.

_ I will bring with me your shadow, your scent, and the unforgettable feeling of your warmth._

_… only a new beginning._

Junhwe put down his pen in finality, shuffling the stack of papers into order and smoothing his hand over the front page proudly. His last play was now completed.

"Are you finished now?" Donghyuk whined petulantly from behind him. While Junhwe wrote, Donghyuk decided to come and embrace him from around his back, sitting patiently in silence as the room filled with the sounds of their calm breathing and words flowing from Junhwe's pen. Junhwe could imagine the delicate pout curving the smaller male's lips, the crease of his brows. If he turned around to look, it would have only made him even fonder of Donghyuk, if that was even possible. "I was so bored. I actually came up with a poem in my head while waiting for you to finish. Would you like to hear it?

"I would love to."

_ "More than rising up together endlessly with you, I would like us to fall together endlessly instead. For some reason, I would like that to happen. _

_ Rather than sharing the serenity and ease of rising up, I want to share the sadness and pain as we fall."_

Donghyuk hugged Junhwe tighter, rubbing his cheek endearingly into the writer's back.

"That is it. That is all I could come up with."

Junhwe smiled, putting his hands over Donghyuk's. He knew how to end the poem. The words came to him, surprisingly easily.

_ "If we fall together endlessly, no matter where we are, I think we would be able to finally realise what true love is."_

Though by the time he finished saying this, he could only hear Donghyuk's soft snores in response, the singer drifted off into a peaceful and sweet dream.

At Gobe Records in Osaka, beautiful and warm vocals filled the recording studio. With his younger sister Jaemin as the piano accompaniment, Donghyuk sang a number of joyful and mellow love songs as the producer listened and watched in utter awe. Donghyuk's voice was magical, and his album was sure to become a success.

"Great job." The producer clapped in delight after they finished recording the last song. "That was totally incredible."

Donghyuk blushed shyly. "Sir," he started, still inside the recording studio. He glanced over at Jaemin, whose eyes were wide with curiosity. "If you do not mind, may I sing one more song?"

"Of course! I would love that. What is the title of the song?"

Donghyuk smiled. "_We, Who Are Falling_."

It did not surprise Hanbin that Junhwe was not present when he arrived at the prescribed address in Osaka. It was disappointing, for sure, but somewhere inside Hanbin he knew to expect this from Junhwe.

He walked into the room, noticing the absence of a note this time. Instead, beside a small vase of carnation flowers sat a pile of scripts neatly piled in the middle of the table.

"Junhwe." Hanbin's grumble echoed through the empty room. "All that is left here is your writing. Where did you go?"

Behind them in line for the boat, two adolescents seriously and passionately deliberated a book they had read, while their flustered mother tried to pacify the crying infant in her arms. It was late in the afternoon, and the port was bustling with dull colour and noise.

_ "I don't quite get it. He knew the sea was unknown and full of monsters, but he jumped in anyway. I'd be too scared."_

_ "Maybe to him that was paradise."_

Junhwe smiled down at Donghyuk as it finally came to their turn.

"Sir. What is your name?"

"Goo…" Junhwe paused, and Donghyuk watched as the writer's face lit up. "I am Goo Youngjun."

The steward nodded, etching the name on his roll, before turning to Donghyuk. "And you, sir?"

"I am…" Donghyuk glanced up at Junhwe with love pouring through his chest, "Kim Youngjin."

Donghyuk sat on the bed watching as Junhwe wrote, back hunched over the desk. Junhwe's broad shoulders spread underneath the white shirt, sleeves rolled up and eyes surrendered to the page; it was a sight Donghyuk was so fond of. Sorrowful piano music filled the cabin room, thrumming from the record player in the corner. Through the window, the shining moon looked like the tip of a lighthouse.

Junhwe removed his gold watch, setting it on the table along with some money and the note he just finished penning. He sighed, almost in relief.

"The sun will rise soon," Donghyuk said, softly.

"Give me a moment."

Junhwe walked to his suitcase and pulled out a black fedora hat. It was the one Donghyuk had left at his house. He put the hat on Donghyuk, and then took the smaller male's hand with a smile.

"Now, let's go."

"Do you remember? After our last show in Gyeongseong, we went to a nightclub together to celebrate."

"Of course I remember," Junhwe answered, shifting his gaze from the sea to look down at the smaller male beside him, leaning on the railing of the ship deck. "You danced with another man that night."

Donghyuk rolled his eyes but smiled at how the writer sounded jealous. Junhwe, jealous! Suddenly, he took off his shoes and offered his hand to Junhwe. "Then, I will dance with you tonight."

They danced. To the sound of the rolling waves, to the imaginary song with a gentle melody playing in their heads. Hands around each other, drinking in every detail under the moonlight, as if their eyes had not gotten used to the lines and curves of the other's face. Junhwe loved Donghyuk so much. When they meet in their next life, he will remember Donghyuk's smile and his tears and all delicate expressions in between. And if not, it will haunt him until he finds Donghyuk again.

"Junhwe." Donghyuk smiled, through glassy eyes. "I want to hear your poetry one last time."

_ "I am already intoxicated by you. I am fumbling around in a summer night's dream. It is endlessly silent, and the sound of my heart pounding is so loud._

_ Your dazzling smile intoxicates me further. I cannot hear anything else. I cannot see anything else. I only want you to further intoxicate me. _

_ A summer night's dream with you is so bitterly romantic. Someday, the world will wake us up. It will wake us up and then disappear._

_ But do not worry; I know of that day. What matters is that for always, in the moments while I live and until the moment I die, I have you deep inside my heart, Donghyuk."_

By now, they had stopped dancing. The song in their heads had ended and the only sound to be heard, over the beating of their hearts, was the crashing of waves surrounding them. Junhwe wiped the glistening tear trickling from Donghyuk's eye. He grabbed his lover's warm hand and squeezed it, swallowing the lump in his throat before leaning forward to kiss him.

There they were. Finally, where nothing else in the world could separate them. Fate had brought them here, or maybe they were the ones turning their backs on fate. It didn't matter. At the end, they had chosen. And they chose to be together.

With their fingers intertwined between them and smiles on their lips that were both sad and serene, they headed for the rail of the deck. Led by Junhwe in front, Donghyuk only a step behind him.

**2 0 1 8**

**SEOUL**

"_Keep your hands off our studio! Arts deserves respect!"_

In front of the dean's office, a group of students and teachers carried bold colourful placards and chanted passionately in protest. One read _Where Is Your HeART?_ Another read _WHERE THE F*CK AM I MEANT TO REHEARSE MY PLAY? _

Elevated on stone steps above the crowd that had gathered on this warm August morning, demonstration organiser Yunhyeong yelled through his megaphone, where he received enthusiastic responses. The hour had just turned and people tried to rush to their classes around the obstruction, some stopping to watch.

_"Who decides?"_ Yunhyeong cried.

_"We decide!"_ Donghyuk answered along with Chanwoo and Jisoo from the front lines of the protest, raising his fist into the air spiritedly.

Under the excuse of more efficient resource allocation, the school had decided to demolish one of the two performing arts studios on campus. For a Drama student like Yunhyeong, who lived and thrived in the studios, it was more than just a terrible, biased decision; it was a personal attack. Starting from the abrupt closure of the Music library last semester, it was clear that the university had chosen revenue at the expense of the very existence of the Arts faculty. Donghyuk, as a Music major, felt as angry about this as anyone.

"_Arts saved us!" _Yunhyeong started.

_"Let's save Arts!"_

Beside Donghyuk, Yunhyeong's intelligent but clumsy boyfriend Hanbin suddenly appeared, panting unevenly and cradling a thick stack of pamphlets. "The printers at the commons were jammed. Had to go to Engineering for remotely working ones. The stench of favouritism is pungent and I don't particularly like it."

But Donghyuk wasn't looking at the pamphlets, or how the collar of Hanbin's polo shirt was upturned (really, along with the usual frazzled hair, Hanbin embodies the aesthetic of an insane genius to the physical level). He was looking at the dark-haired guy who had come with Hanbin. The way sunlight skittered playfully along the slope of his nose. Unhelpfully, Hanbin didn't offer much of an introduction, only clambering quickly onto the platform to join Yunhyeong. The guy naturally stepped closer to Donghyuk as the space filled with more students.

"I like your glasses, by the way."

_ Good one, Donghyuk. Nice. Compliment the cute boy but make it about his vision impediment. Way to fucking go. Also what the heck. You're literally at a protest right now._

The response, thankfully, was a chuckle. Through the thin silver wire frames, warm eyes crinkled at the corners. "Thanks. It helps me see things differently. And see." Donghyuk felt so embarrassed he could die, but at least he made the guy laugh. Or should he need to qualify: _mightily attractive_ guy. "I'm Junhwe, by the way. I know Hanbin through Literature. I proofread his plays sometimes."

"Wow. You must be really patient, then." Hanbin's plots were notorious for being slow. "I'm Donghyuk. I'm friends with Yunhyeong. I major in Music."

"I know," Junhwe answered easily, voice clear over the animated shouts of the crowd, and Donghyuk almost panicked. He _knows_? "I hear that you're really good at singing."

"I mean," Donghyuk pretended to contemplate, "that's subjective." No. It really wasn't. As a singer, those were the exact words Donghyuk wanted to hear the most, and each time he heard it his heart expanded with pride.

"Then you can show me, and I'll judge for myself. I mean, I might be a little blind. But my ears work fine."

Though, for some reason or another, right now Donghyuk's heart was doing more than just swelling with delight. It beat quickly and unpredictably, as if to burst right through his chest. He blushed slightly at the thought of Junhwe's suggestion. "Maybe. In the studio. After we save it, that is."

And then Junhwe grinned widely, and Donghyuk stopped thinking altogether. With a smile like that, Junhwe could save more than just the studio. He could probably save the entire world.

The two students, both glowing with passion and hope and all the beautiful things of youth, turned back to face the front. Together they stood, raising their fists into the air.

Right by each other's side. Inseparable.

THE END IS NOT THE END.

IT IS ONLY A NEW BEGINNING.

(Goo Junhwe)

**Author's Note:**

>   
**JUNHWE'S POEMS**  
  
THIS ROAD OF AGONY - BEGINNING  
▫ Leaf  
▫ A Bad Start to a Good End  
▫ Youth  
▫ I Miss You  
  
THIS ROAD OF AGONY - END  
▫ Pain  
▫ We, Who Are Falling  
▫ A Summer Night's Dream  
  
The poem that starts like _Every cage in my head awaits your memory_ isn't Junhwe's poem. It's mine. Eek.  
  
  
I write lots of angst, but I felt genuine emotions while writing this. Partly because it _is_ a tragedy, and partly because Junhwe's poems somehow worked really well with the story, and I found that really beautiful and sad at the same time. With the amount of references I made to his poems… is this story actually my l*ve letter to him? Maybe.
> 
> Related (but not really) is a screenplay I wrote called [A Scenario of Love (Redux)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17209802/chapters/47803162), posed as a ""modern-day"" rewrite of _A Scenario of Love_, which Hanbin wrote in this story (how meta of me!). I like it because it's based on a film I love, so check it out if you want.
> 
> If you’ve read this far, I should probably thank you.
> 
> Thank you.


End file.
